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As  I  Saw  It 


By 
HARVEY  APGYLC    C]bs. 


STORIES  ILLUSTRATED 


Home  Publishing  Company 

San    Trarvcisco    ^    California 


COPYRIGHTED  1900  jflflW 

BY  JOHN  JACKSON    MC!NTIRE 

PUBLISHED  1902 


All  rights  in  this  book,  including  illustrations,  the  rights 

of  dramatization,    recitation,   translation,  and  the 

publication  of  extracts,  are  strictly  reserved. 


niojts-jupp  COMPAXT  PRINT,  21-23  naaT  «T^  8.  B. 


PREFACE 

I  have  no  apologies  to  offer  for  writing  this 
book.  Like  Topsy,  who  "just  grew,"  I  wrote  as 
I  saw  it. 

HARVEY  ARGYLE 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Salt  River  bridge,  where  Old  Uncle  made  his  first  appearance 

in  camp 32 

The  boy  spy      -        -        -        -        -        -        -        -        -        -48 

The  dog  that  carried  the  despatch       ...  58 

Violin  that  was  captured  where   Old   Uncle   made    his  last 
charge  -------  GO 

The  battle  where  Uncle  made  his  last  charge  *        •         64 

The  Presidio  at  San  Francisco  where  the  blood-stained  poem 

was  secured 74 

Copy  of  blood-stained  poem          -  ~        76 

Mountain  village         _---___  -80 

My  guides  in  the  forest  of  tirr.ber  96 

Old  Campbell's  place  -    100 

Sawmill 102 

The  mountain  home  of  the  "Forest  Queen"         -        -        -  108 

Old  abandoned  mine -  110 

The  first  camp  in  our  new  settlement  -----  120 
The  first  homes  in  the  settlement  -----  128 
Settlement  schoolhouse  -  -•-  -  -  -  -  144 
Painting  on  the  wall  of  the  schooihouse  -  -  -  146 

Sugar  camp  -  -  -  -  ...  -  .  .  143 
My  first  start  on  the  road  as  a  commercial  traveler  -  -  160 

"Old  Laughing  Billy  Jones'"  place 176 

The  picture  of  Meyers  that  Marshall  signed  my  name  to       -       202 

Horses  and  riders  ready  for  the  race 252 

The  finish  of  the  third  heat  -        -        -        -     '  -        -  260 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


Incidents  of  the  Civil  War  in  Missouri     -        -  -        9-72 

The  Story  of  a  Blood-Stained  Poem      -  73-76 

A  Story  of  the  Mines         ..__...     77-115 
My  First  Sweetheart  and  Scenes  of  My  Childhood  116-155 

The  Commercial  Traveler  -        -        -  -   156-210 

A  Horse-Race  for  a  Wife  in  the  Days  of  Slavery        -      211-263 


INCIDENTS  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR  IN 
MISSOURI 


In  reading  over  the  personal  memoirs  of 
U.  S.  Grant,  in  Vol.  1,  page  252,  some  incidents 
of  the  Civil  War  in  Missouri,  not  touched  upon 
by  him,  except  in  a  merely  allusive  way,  were 
brought  to  my  mind,  and  as  I  am  sure  they  have 
never  appeared  in  print,  I  will  endeavor  to  relate 
them  as  I  saw  them. 

History  tells  us  of  battles  fought  and  number 
of  men  killed  and  wounded,  but  it  does  not  tell 
us  of  the  camp  life  of  the  soldier  nor  the  pathetic, 
heroic  and  amusing  incidents  by  which  every  battle 
or  skirmish  is  attended. 

In  the  year  1861,  some  companies  of  raw  recruits 
were  ordered  from  different  localities  to  a  little 
town,  less  than  fifty  miles  from  Mexico,  Missouri, 
which  had  been  designated  as  a  military  post,  for 
the  purpose  of  receiving  instructions  in  tactics  and 
drill 


10        *  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

The  company  to  which  I  belonged  was  organized 
from  the  boys  of  this  village  and  the  immediate 
vicinity  and  our  captain  was  selected  from  our 
number. 

Taken  altogether,  we  were  a  motley  crowd,  as 
may  readily  be  imagined  when  it  is  understood 
that  we  had  no  uniforms,  that  our  clothing  did  not 
match,  and  that  we  were  almost  totally  ignorant 
of  the  rudiments  of  military  discipline.  Our  guns 
were  picked  up  from  the  neighboring  villages  and 
the  country  around  ;  they  were  of  all  makes,  sizes 
and  shapes.  We  had  to  have  them,  we  had  to  be 
drilled,  and  we  could  not  drill  without  a  gun,  you 
know. 

I  was  at  that  time,  like  many  others  of  my 
comrades,  very  young.  The  ages  of  the  men  of 
my  company  ranged  from  sixteen  to  twenty-four 
years,  I,  myself,  being  seventeen  years  old. 

We  knew  nothing  of  military  discipline ;  we 
had  grown  up  as  wild  and  free  as  the  jack  rabbits 
that  roamed  the  broad  unsettled  prairies. 

In  order  to  make  us  useful  the  Department  sent 
some  brand  new  officers  to  our  little  village  to 
drill  us.  They  were  young  and  handsome,  wore 
new  blue  suits  of  clothing,  bright  shining  sabers 
hanging  at  their  sides,  and  pretty  little  straps  on 


CIVIL    WAR  IN  MISSOURI  11 

their  shoulders.  It  was  not  very  long  before 
trouble  began  in  a  quiet  way. 

The  new  officers  were  invited  out  to  suppers 
and  parties  and  entertained  by  the  young  ladies, 
whom,  previous  to  their  advent  on  the  scene,  we 
had  claimed  as  our  sweethearts.  So  we  made  up 
our  minds  to  hedge  off  that  proposition. 

Brass  buttons  and  epaulets  have  always  had  an 
unaccountable  attraction  for  the  feminine  mind, 
and  thus  it  came  about  that  we  of  the  rank  and 
file  were  almost  completely  ostracized  from  dances 
and  all  the  social  amusements.  We  could  only 
go  to  the  young  ladies'  homes  when  there  was  no 
danger  of  encountering  any  of  our  superiors. 

Finally,  the  officers  decided  to  give  a  ball. 
They  rented  a  hall  and  issued  invitations  to  all 
the  leading  men  of  the  town  and  their  families. 
In  the  meantime,  however,  we  bought  up  all  the 
carriages  in  the  place  and  all  the  local  music,  so 
that  our  "dress  parade  soldiers,"  as  we  called 
them,  were  obliged  to  send  fifteen  miles  away 
to  order  carriages  to  take  our  girls  to  that  ball 
and  also  to  engage  an  imported  string  band. 
Then  thinking,  no  doubt,  that  some  of  the  men 
would  succeed  in  obtruding  their  unwelcome 
presence  upon  them,  the  doors  of  the  hall  were 


12  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

locked  and  the  windows  fastened  down.  We 
could  walk  around  the  hall  and  hear  the  sweet 
strains  of  music  and  the  merry  laughter  of  the 
dancers.  Get  in?  Oh,  no! 

The  Southern  boys  were  faring  about  the  same 
as  ourselves  with  regard  to  their  sweethearts,  and 
we  had  solicited  their  aid ;  so,  on  the  night  of  the 
lock-out  at  the  hall  we  held  a  consultation. 

Our  first  move  was  to  procure  a  lot  of  cayenne 
pepper  and  goose  quills,  telescoping  the  quills 
one  upon  the  other  until  we  had  a  hollow  tube 
six  or  eight  inches  long.  We  obtained  as  many 
of  these  quills  as  there  were  apertures  in  the  hall, 
then  loaded  them  with  the  cayenne  pepper  and 
blew  it  in  through  the  keyholes  and  under  the 
doors  and  windows.  It  was  not  long  before  all 
avenues  of  exit  were  thrown  wide  open  and  a 
number  of  very  angry  guests  made  their  appear 
ance.  Of  course  we  were  nowhere  to  be  found. 

Instead  of  this  escapade  helping  our  case  it 
only  made  it  worse.  The  girls  began  to  tell 
around  what  excellent  warriors  these  officers 
were;  they  were  so  thoroughly  trained  that  they 
could  whip  their  weight  in  wildcats — in  fact  to 
attack  them,  except  with  well-trained  soldiers  and 
in  superior  numbers,  was  useless.  Such  were  the 


CIVIL   WAR  IN    MISSOURI  13 

exalted  opinions  that  our  sweetheart!  had  of 
them.  And  the  only  possible  way  to  change  that 
opinion  was  by  conniving  some  kind  of  a  demon 
stration  where  no  one  would  be  hurt  physically. 

A  good  portion  of  our  company  and  some  of 
the  boys  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the 
Southerners,  who  were  friends  of  ours,  began  to 
have  it  noised  through  the  country  that  our  post 
was  to  be  attacked  by  the  enemy.  Reports  to 
this  effect  were  sent  in  daily.  The  officers  in 
charge  drilled  their  men  harder  and  faster;  the 
ammunition  and  accoutrements  were  looked  after 
with  a  sharper  eye;  the  big  doors  of  the  freight 
depot  were  thrown  wide  open  and  barricaded 
with  freight  of  all  description  for  breastworks; 
and  it.  was  decided  that  in  the  event  of  an  attack 
the  troops  should  at  once  take  refuge  within  the 
improvised  fort. 

As  these  disturbing  reports  became  more  fre 
quent  we  began  to  hear  men  of  other  companies 
at  the  post  tell  what  they  would  do  in  a  fight ; 
how  they  would  annihilate  the  enemy,  and  how 
they  would  shoot  as  long  as  life  lasted. 

This  bold  talk  and  the  preparations  for  defense 
made  the  young  officers  feel  more  secure,  and 
they  became  more  reckless  in  their  boasting. 


14  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

While  this  was  going  on  the  boys  of  our  neigh 
borhood  who  had  been  affected  by  the  lock-out 
were  busily  engaged  gathering  all  the  jacks,  jen 
nies,  mules  and  old  horses  south  of  the  village, 
until  they  had  accumulated  one  hundred  and  fifty 
or  two  hundred  head.  During  the  time  our 
friends  were  thus  engaged  we  procured  from  St. 
Louis  a  number  of  packages  of  the  largest  fire 
crackers  obtainable.  Watching  our  opportunity, 
we  managed  to  get  those  in  the  secret  on  picket 
duty  this  particular  night. 

Warnings  having  been  circulated  so  frequently 
of  a  contemplated  attack  on  the  village,  the  offi 
cers  finally  became  indifferent  and  relaxed  in  a 
measure  their  vigilance.  That  was  just  what  we 
wanted. 

One  night,  after  dark,  our  band  of  animals  were 
driven  away  around  the  town,  right  on  the  oppo 
site  side  from  where  they  had  been  reared,  to  a 
corral  which  we  had  secured;  and  every  jack  and 
Jennie,  horse  and  mule,  had  firecrackers  attached 
to  mane  and  tail  in  such  a  manner  that  by  setting 
off  one  they  would  keep  bursting  until  all  were 
exploded.  When  each  quadruped  had  his  quota 
of  explosives  properly  attached  we  lined  them  up, 
and  about  eleven  o'clock  the  men  and  boys  who 


CIVIL   WAR  IN    MISSOURI  15 

were  engaged  for  that  purpose  ignited  the  pyro 
technics  and  turned  the  fiery  steeds  loose  through 
the  village.  The  lights  were  extinguished,  and 
the  terrible  clatter  of  two  hundred  hoofs,  added 
to  the  flash  and  roar  of  the  firecrackers,  sounded 
very  much  like  a  rifle  battle.  The  only  casualty, 
however,  was  one  of  Stone's  best  jacks  killed  in 
front  of  the  depot.  All  the  pickets  on  duty, 
understanding  the  game,  fired  into  the  air  and 
ran  for  the  depot  to  see  the  fun. 

Those  self-declared  heroes  had  forgotten  about 
their  avowed  intentions  to  die  as  such,  and  more 
of  them  ran  under  the  depot  than  into  it.  It  was 
a  dark  night,  and  as  they  were  only  able  to  see 
the  flash  and  hear  the  noise  of  the  infuriated 
beasts  and  the  explosions  of  the  firecrackers,  the 
officers  on  watch  lost  no  time  in  despatching  to 
an  old  lady's  house,  where  the  rest  of  the  "  dress 
parade  soldiers"  were  being  entertained  by  our 
sweethearts,  to  advise  them  that  the  town  was 
attacked  by  a  large  force ;  that  we  were  undoubt 
edly  all  lost;  and  to  save  themselves  if  they 
could.  We  did  hear  that  some  of  them  ran 
under  the  bed,  but  we  did  not  hear  any  more 
of  the  bravery  of  those  men  from  our  sweet 
hearts. 


16  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

In  some  way  unknown  to  us  this  prank  leaked 
out,  and  as  it  was  the  men  of  our  company  who 
were  the  principal  instigators  of  it,  we  were  sent 
off  into  Galloway  County  near  the  enemy's  lines, 
to  a  place  called  Hickory  Grove  Schoolhouse, 
our  orders  being  to  watch  the  enemy  and  report 
their  movements.  But  the  real  object  in  sending 
us  there  was  that  it  was  hoped  that  we  would 
encounter  our  adversaries  and  be  thrashed  to  a 
finish. 

With  nothing  but  occasional  drill  and  every 
day  camp  duty  for  a  lot  of  mischievous  boys, 
one  can  readily  imagine  how  heavily  time  would 
hang  on  our  hands.  Only  a  captain  with  all  the 
qualities  of  a  perfect  man  could  hold  our  love  and 
respect  as  ours  did.  He  was  brave  and  kind,  at 
the  same  time  firm,  but  did  not  want  to  see 
every  little  infraction  of  rules  the  boys  might 
commit.  And  in  return  for  his  consideration  of 
us  we  esteemed  and  honored  him  and  would  go 
to  any  extent  to  grant  his  slightest  wish. 

There  was  a  little  village  by  the  name  of  Con 
cord,  situated  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  where 
we  were  encamped  at  Hickory  Grove  School- 
house.  In  some  way  or  other  the  boys  got  word 
there  was  to  be  a  dance  there  one  Saturday 


CIVIL    WAR  IN    MISSOURI  17 

night,  and  several  of  us  concluded  we  would  go 
without  permission,  for  we  knew  we  could  not 
get  off  if  we  asked. 

But  how  to  get  out  of  camp  with  our  horses 
was  a  hard  problem  for  us  to  solve ;  besides,  I  did 
not  see  how  I  could  go  unless  I  succeeded  in 
borrowing  a  horse,  as  mine  was  so  lame  that  he 
almost  went  on  three  legs.  One  of  my  com 
rades,  by  the  name  of  Jenkins,  said,  M  I  can  fix  you 
with  a  horse."  I  asked  him  "How?"  "Well," 
he  replied,  "your  horse  and  the  captain's  are  so 
much  alike  you  can  hardly  tell  them  apart  in  the 
daytime.  Now,  I'll  just  take  and  tie  your  horse 
to  the  tree  where  the  captain's  is,  and  tie  the 
captain's  horse  to  your  tree.  (You  must  not 
know  this,  of  course.)  You  go  and  saddle  up 
your  horse,  and  we  will  go  through  the  pickets 
one  at  a  time." 

So  we  saddled  up,  got  away  from  camp,  and  on 
arriving  at  our  destination  we  were  entertained 
with  a  rifle  volley  that  made  our  hair  curl.  It 
came  in  such  a  way  that  we  could  not  return  by 
the  same  route  we  had  come,  but  were  compelled 
to  take  a  trail  through  the  woods.  The  path 
we  had  taken  came,  at  one  point,  to  within  one 
hundred  yards  of  the  road  leading  to  our  camp, 


18  INCIDENTS   OF   THE 

and  we  stopped  there  to  take  an  inventory  of 
our  casualties. 

The  captain's  horse,  being  a  spirited  fellow, 
had  run  away  with  me.  I  had  lost  one  shoe, 
a  holster  pistol  and  my  hat.  One  or  two  of 
the  horses  belonging  to  the  others  had  slight 
wounds.  A  fellow  by  the  name  of  Roberson 
had  one  ear  nearly  shot  off.  He  was  a  pitiable 
looking  sight,  but  he  jested  about  it — a  habit  he 
had  of  doing  upon  all  occasions,  it  mattered  not 
how  serious. 

While  in  this  secluded  little  spot  we  heard  a 
clatter  of  horses'  feet  coming  from  the  direction 
of  our  encampment.  We  knew  it  was  our  boys, 
and  at  once  decided  to  keep  quiet  and  let  them 
pass,  and  then  slide  back  to  our  quarters  before 
they  returned.  For  we  were  aware  that  rifle  vol 
ley  had  been  heard  by  them,  and  that  was  what 
brought  them  out.  Just  as  they  got  opposite  our 
place  they  called  a  halt.  We  heard  the  captain 
say,  "Lieutenant,  take  the  men  and  dash  forward, 
my  horse  is  too  lame."  It  must  be  remembered 
that  he  had  my  horse.  The  captain  returned  with 
two  men.  After  the  coast  was  clear  we  ventured 
over  into  the  road  and  followed  close  at  their  heels, 
replaced  the  captain's  horse,  and  went  to  our  tents. 


CIVIL   WAR  IN    MISSOURI  19 

The  squad  returned  that  night  from  Concord, 
reporting  that  they  were  unable  to  find  anyone 
but  peaceable  citizens,  and  that  the  town  appeared 
to  be  asleep. 

Next  morning  the  captain  was  on  hand  to  see 
that  all  his  men  answered  to  the  roll-call.  Rob- 
erson  was  almost  the  last  to  step  into  line,  and, 
being  a  natural  comedian,  the  patches  upon  his 
ear  and  on  the  side  of  his  nose  only  added  to  his 
comical  expression.  And  as  he  responded  to  his 
name  in  a  kind  of  subdued  tone,  "  I  am  here,  Cap 
tain,"  it  brought  forth  such  a  peal  of  laughter  from 
the  men  as  made  the  woods  ring.  The  captain 
tried  to  look  austere  and  sternly  called  out, 
"Attention!"  at  the  same  time  turning  his  head. 

There  was  no  mention  made  of  the  incidents  of 
the  preceding  night ;  nothing  was  said  about  shots 
being  fired  or  anybody  being  out.  Roberson 
was  not  even  asked  about  the  huge  patch  upon 
his  ear;  not  one  word  was  uttered  by  the  captain 
with  regard  to  his  horse  being  lame,  although  he 
went  out  with  a  reconnoitering  party  the  next  day. 
We  felt  so  much  ashamed  of  treating  him  in  such 
a  manner  that  we  were  good  for  a  long  time  after 
wards.  However,  it  became  awfully  monotonous 
staying  at  this  little  schoolhouse,  and  we  began 


20  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

to  look  around  for  some  loop-hole  through  which 
to  escape  in  an  honorable  way. 

From  what  we  heard  we  had  formed  a  favorable 
opinion  of  the  new  Commander  in  Mexico, 
Missouri,  then  Colonel  Grant,  and  we  were 
desirous  to  get  under  his  wing  if  we  could.  The 
captain  had  so  expressed  himself  upon  numerous 
occasions,  and  as  we  wished  to  make  amends  for 
the  past  we  wanted  his  ambition  gratified. 

Therefore,  a  few  of  us  were  constantly  on  the 
lookout  for  an  opportunity  to  bring  about  this 
longed  for  consummation.  We  determined  not  to 
take  too  many  into  our  confidence,  as  we  had  done 
before,  so  only  our  mess  of  twelve  men  were  in 
the  secret. 

About  half  a  mile  from  where  we  encamped  we 
had  noticed  that  an  old  lady  of  the  masculine  type 
had  a  very  fine  lot  of  turkeys.  Our  captain's 
tent  was  adjoining  ours  and  some  of  his  men  went 
out  and  killed  two  wild  turkeys.  They  didn't  do 
a  thing  but  just  cook  and  eat  those  turkeys  in 
front  of  our  very  eyes  and  never  said  turkey  to  us 
once. 

After  this  Roberson  called  a  meeting  in  our  tent 
and  said,  "Boys,  I  have  it.  You  know  the 
Commander  at  Mexico  will  never  allow  stealing." 


CIVIL    WAR  IN   MISSOURI  21 

Then  he  proceeded  to  lay  his  plan  before  us  and 
we  gladly  assented  to  it.  So  away  we  went,  down 
through  a  brushy  canyon,  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  where  the  old  lady's  turkeys  roosted, 
appropriated  rails  from  a  fence  near-by,  and  built 
a  narrow  pen  four  or  five  feet  high  and  covered  it 
over.  The  next  night  we  carried  corn  from  the 
owner's  crib  and  took  all  of  her  turkeys  and  placed 
them  in  this  pen.  The  enclosure  having  been 
built  over  a  little  stream  of  water,  they  could 
remain  there  for  some  time  without  receiving  any 
injury,  as  we  had  placed  sufficient  food  there  to 
last  several  days.  The  next  night,  after  the  turkeys 
had  been  safely  penned,  a  couple  of  the  boys  went 
around  to  the  farm  to  buy  some  milk. 

They  took  off  their  hats  to  the  old  lady  and 
were  exceedingly  polite,  for  they  saw  she  had  her 
fighting  clothes  on.  Having  offered  to  pay  for 
anything  they  got,  she  finally  cooled  down  and 
invited  them  into  the  house,  remarking  as  she  did 
so,  "  Do  you  know  that  you  fellows  are  all  a  pack 
of  thieves?"  Asking  her  to  explain  what  she 
meant,  she  told  them  that  some  twenty-five  of 
her  turkeys  had  been  stolen.  They  said  they 
could  give  her  some  information  if  she  promised 
never  to  tell,  and  to  this  she  hastily  agreed.  Then 


22  INCIDENTS    OF   THE 

they  told  her  to  go  over  to  the  camp  directly 
behind  the  captain's  tent  and  she  would  see  a  pile 
of  feathers  there  and  perhaps  she  would  recognize 
them  as  belonging  to  her  turkeys;  if  so,  the 
fowls  had  probably  all  been  eaten  by  this  time. 
The  balance  of  the  messes  would  not  be  so  bold 
as  to  leave  the  feathers  around  where  they  could 
be  seen.  Before  leaving  they  said  to  her,  "  Do 
not  go  until  we  get  back  as  they  might  suspect  us 
of  telling  you." 

About  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  an  irate 
female  made  her  appearance  at  the  captain's  tent, 
inspected  the  feathers,  pronounced  them  to  be  the 
plumage  that  had  belonged  to  her  fowl,  and  abused 
the  captain  in  a  disgraceful  manner.  Leaving  in 
great  indignation,  she  went  to  Mexico  and  com 
plained  of  the  theft  of  her  turkeys.  The  captain 
was  commanded  to  report  at  headquarters  and 
give  an  explanation  of  his  conduct.  Of  course, 
he  could  not  go  in  safety  with  less  than  fifty  men, 
and  a  greater  part  of  the  mess,  myself  included, 
were  among  the  lucky  ones  detailed  to  escort  him 
to  that  place. 

Upon  our  arrival  we  were  lined  up  in  front  of 
the  Commander's  tent.  Our  captain  was  repri 
manded,  the  turkey  racket  smoothed  over  and  the 


CIVIL   WAR   IN    MISSOURI  23 

captain  and  his  little  band  sent  back  the  next  day 
into  seclusion  to  await  further  orders. 

It  was  understood  by  the  boys  in  the  secret 
that  while  we  were  away  and  before  we  returned 
the  turkeys  were  to  be  let  loose.  Upon  the 
captain's  arrival  at  the  camp  the  old  woman 
reappeared  and  on  bended  knees  apologized  for 
the  trouble  she  had  caused  him.  She  stated  at 
the  same  time  that  every  one  of  the  missing 
poultry  had  returned,  and  said,  "Captain,  I've 
raised  turkeys  nigh  unto  forty  years  and  never 
had  that  happen  to  me  before."  Thereupon  the 
captain  flew  into  a  rage,  ordered  the  old  lady 
under  arrest,  and  there  was  another  detail  of  fifty 
men  appointed  to  escort  him  back  to  Mexico  to 
have  the  stain  of  turkey  stealing  erased  from  his 
name. 

On  arriving  there  the  prisoner  made  her 
explanation,  and  nearly  all  the  men  were  closely 
questioned  to  find  out  what  they  knew  of  this 
turkey  deal.  They,  of  course,  knew  nothing.  So 
the  captain  was  ordered  to  return  and  move  his 
camp  without  delay  to  Mexico,  where  his  men 
must  be  disciplined. 

Reaching  camp,  we  found  those  on  guard  there 
in  a  turmoil  of  excitement.  Reports  had  been 


"24  INCIDENTS   OF   THE 

received  that  the  rebels  were  in  strong  force 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood.  The  men  had 
worked  all  night  digging  trenches  and  building 
a  stockade,  as  they  were  hourly  expecting  an 
attack.  When  the  captain  made  enquiries  of  the 
officer  in  charge  as  to  the  grounds  upon  which 
he  had  based  his  surmise  of  an  attack,  he  replied 
that  scouts  had  discovered  a  large  number  of 
fresh  tracks  coming  from  the  northwest,  going 
southeast  to  where  there  was  a  deep  canyon, 
heavily  covered  with  timber,  not  more  than  three 
miles  distant,  and  he  believed  the  enemy  were 
concentrating  there  for  the  purpose  of  attack 
ing  us. 

I,  being  a  sergeant,  and  the  captain  knowing 
that  I  had  been  all  through  that  country  before 
the  war  with  hunters  and  surveyors,  he  ordered  me 
to  detail  ten  men  and  proceed  at  once  to  investi 
gate  the  cause  of  this  alarm.  At  the  same  time 
he  despatched  a  courier  on  the  fleetest-footed 
horse  in  the  company  to  Mexico  for  reinforce 
ments. 

I  selected  ten  young  men  of  about  my  own 
age  from  the  mess  I  belonged  to  and  started  out 
to  take  the  trail  where  they  had  discovered  the 
tracks.  Those  imprints  we  followed  through 


CIVIL   WAR  IN    MISSOURI  25 

farms  and  over  hills  for  some  three  miles;  and 
then  the  tracks  appeared  to  increase  in  numbers, 
there  being  all  kinds,  sizes  and  shapes  repre 
sented. 

At  length  we  arrived  at  the  top  of  a  high  cliff. 
Taking  our  field-glass  and  looking  over  this  cliff 
into  a  beautiful  valley  of  about  fifty  acres,  we  dis 
covered  a  cluster  of  trees  surrounding  a  log  cabin 
enclosed  with  a  post  and  rail  fence.  Here  horses 
and  mules  of  all  descriptions  were  tied  as  thick 
as  they  could  stand.  There  was  not  a  man  ir 
sight,  and  I  must  say  this  looked  suspicious. 
Holding  a  consultation,  we  decided  to  go  back 
and  take  the  road  leading  to  the  house,  dash 
by  under  full  speed,  lying  flat  on  our  horses' 
sides  opposite  from  the  house,  and  as  we  passed 
by  the  dwelling  to  fire  from  the  pummels  of  our 
saddles,  if  necessary.  Having  practised  this 
horsemanship  often,  we  were  quite  expert  at  it. 

However,  discovering  that  the  owners  of  those 
horses  were  darkies  attending  a  funeral,  we  rode 
up  to  the  fence.  I  dismounted,  wrote  a  brief 
despatch  and  sent  it  to  the  captain  by  one  of  my 
squad.  It  read  as  follows: 

"DEAR  SIR: — Took  up  the  trail  as  you  sug 
gested  one  mile  northwesterly  from  our  camp; 


26  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

followed  tracks  for  four  miles ;  found  them  increas 
ing  as  we  advanced.  Arrived  at  place  of  con 
centration.  Judge  there  are  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty  heart-broken  darkies  at  a  nigger 
funeral.  I  remain  awhile  to  question  them  and 
see  if  we  can  get  any  clue  to  the  enemy  being  in 
this  locality.  Will  report  by  roll-call  this  evening. 
"Respectfully, 

"HARVEY  ARGYLE." 

Leaving  my  men  on  guard,  I  proceeded  to  the 
back  door,  where  the  darkies  were  huddled 
together.  This  shanty  was  situated  in  a  valley 
which  was  part  of  a  large  tobacco  plantation,  and 
had  been  given  to  an  old  colored  man  and  his 
blind  wife  by  the  owner  for  their  faithful  services 
to  him  in  their  younger  days. 

Years  before,  the  master  of  these  old  slaves 
had  bought  a  little  darkey  boy  and  given  him  into 
their  keeping.  And  he  had  grown  up  under  their 
care  and  had  learned  to  love  them  as  his  own. 
From  his  bewailihgs  over  "Uncle  Joe,"  as  he 
called  him,  I  then  and  there  wrote  the  following 
verses : 

Oh,  poor  ole  Joe  is  a  dyin',  Sam, 

His  life  is  ebbin'  away, 
De  days  ob  de  coon  an'  de  'possum,  Sam, 
Am  gone  from  us  dis  day. 


CIVIL    WAR  IN    MISSOURI  27 

Oh,  de  days  we  worked  in  de  tobacco  field, 

Dem  happy  days  are  o'er, 
An'  poor  ole  Joe  is  a  dyin'  now, 

You'll  neber  see  him  more. 

Oh,  de  ole  log  cabin  I  lub  so  well, 

Which  I  built  so  long  ago, 
I'se  a  gwine  to  leabe  to  ole  Aunt  Hanna; 

She  was  good  to  poor  ole  Joe. 
It  will  house  an'  shelter  de  dear  ole  soul; 

You  know  she's  ole  an'  blind, 
An'  only  a  few  short  years  are  left 

Dat  she'  11  remain  behind. 

Oh,  de  'possum  an'  coon  we  shall  hunt  no  more, 

But  de  skins  on  de  cabin  walls 
Will  remind  you,  Sam,  ob  our  hunting  days 

Till  de  ole  log  cabin  falls. 
When  you  sit  by  de  fire  on  de  winter's  night, 

And  de  hickory  embers  glow, 
You'  11  think  ob  de  Christmas  fire  we  built, 

And  you'll  not  forget  ole  Joe. 

Den  take  de  ole  banjo  from  de  wall, 

An*  sing  one  last  ole  song, 
It  will  cheer  my  last  sad  moments,  Sam, 

While  death  is  comin'  along. 
And  when  from  yon  ole  churchyard,  Sam, 

You'll  return  to  de  cabin  alone, 
You'll  comfort  ole  Aunt  Hanna,  Sam, 

When  poor  ole  Joe  is  gone. 


28  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

So  he  took  de  ole  banjo  from  de  wall, 

An'  his  eyes  were  rilled  with  tears, 
As  he  sang  de  song  de  ole  man  lubed, 

De  song  ob  happier  years; 
An'  de  darkies  came  from  miles  aroun' , 

An'  joined  in  de  song  ob  woe, 
An'  de  tears  fell  down  from  ebery  eye, 

For  dey  dearly  lubed  ole  Joe. 

As  the  colored  people  always  looked  upon  the 
Union  soldiers  as  their  friends,  our  presence  did 
not  disturb  them  in  the  least,  and  they  went  on 
paying  their  last  tribute  of  love  to  the  white-haired 
old  man  who  had  been  for  so  many  years  their 
adviser  and  leader  in  corn  shuckings,  coon  and 
'possum  hunts,  as  well  as  their  prompter,  in  his 
younger  days,  at  many  of  the  dances  and  hoe- 
downs.  He  had  also  been  a  lover  of  the  banjo, 
and  played  it  well  in  his  day.  After  paying  our 
respects  to  the  dead,  we  ourselves  went  away 
saddened. 

Returning  to  camp  about  dark,  we  received  the 
information  that  our  company  had  been  ordered 
to  move  to  Mexico,  and  quickly  following  in  their 
wake  we  overtook  them  ten  miles  out  on  the 
road. 

The  messenger  whom  the  captain  had  des 
patched  to  Mexico  for  reinforcements  was  a  new 


CIVIL   WAR   IN   MISSOURI  29 

recruit,  an  inveterate  gossip,  and  he  spread  the 
report  broadcast  that  the  enemy  had  undoubt 
edly  annihilated  us  by  this  time. 

This  news,  of  course,  reached  the  camp  from 
which  we  had  been  banished  for  that  horse  and 
firecracker  racket.  Overjoyed  at  the  intelli 
gence,  they  were  getting  ready  to  celebrate  our 
signal  defeat;  but  their  rejoicing  was  short-lived, 
as  they  received  a  telegram  from  some  of  the 
boys  saying  that  we  had  met  the  enemy,  four 
times  our  number,  had  killed  one  hundred  and 
fifty  and  captured  two  hundred  head  of  their 
horses;  that  we  were  now  safe  in  Mexico  and 
several  of  the  boys  had  been  promoted  for  their 
bravery.  In  order  to  win  we  had  recourse  to  a 
little  strategy,  hence  the  telegram. 

I  think  this  telegram  cost  four  dollars,  but  we 
chipped  in  and  paid  it  without  a  murmur.  The 
fellows  who  were  preparing  to  rejoice  felt  very 
much  chagrined.  Sweet  revenge  was  ours,  as 
the  girls  now  called  them  cowards  and  boobtes 
and  wrote  us  kindly  letters. 

A  few  days  after  our  arrival  at  Salt  River 
bridge,  Roberson,  the  comedian  of  the  company, 
received  a  note  from  one  of  the  young  officers 
who  took  the  leading  part  in  our  banishment 


30  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

from  the  home  post,  accusing  him  of  being  the 
leader  of  all  the  deviltry  our  company  got  into. 
The  words  used  were  so  brief,  cold  and  stiff  that 
the  paper  broke  where  he  signed  his  name. 

We  camped  at  Salt  River  to  guard  the  bridge 
and  to  be  instructed  in  cavalry  and  infantry  tac 
tics;  and  here  we  received  our  first  initiation  in 
discipline. 

We  had  not  been  there  very  long  before  we 
discovered  a  fine  watermelon  patch  some  three 
or  four  miles  down  the  river.  A  few  of  us 
arranged  one  night  to  go  out  and  sample  them. 
The  patch  was  situated  right  at  the  head  of  a 
ravine  in  the  center  of  a  corn  field.  The  corn 
was  well  ripened  and  as  high  as  a  horse's  back, 
and  around  the  head  of  this  ravine,  where  the 
watermelon  patch  was  situated,  there  was  a  fine 
plot  of  green  grass  where  a  cow  and  her  young 
calf  had  been  picketed  by  a  long  rope.  The  field 
was  enclosed  with  an  old-fashioned  rail  fence. 
The  owner  of  this  property  was  a  penurious  and 
grasping  old  bachelor,  one  who  would  feel  the 
loss  of  a  watermelon  more  than  some  people 
would  a  hundred  dollars,  and  the  boys  hearing 
this,  naturally  thought  his  watermelons  would 
taste  sweeter  than  any  one  else's.  One  night 


CIVIL    WAR    IN    MISSOURI  31 

some  ten  or  twelve  of  the  boys  stole  out  from 
camp  and  made  their  way  along  the  road  until 
they  got  opposite  this  patch.  They  tied  their 
horses  to  the  fence,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
distant,  and  proceeded  to  the  place  without  delay, 
not  being  aware  that  the  cow  and  calf  had  been 
tied  there.  When  they  suddenly  emerged  from 
the  thick  corn  into  the  watermelon  patch  the 
cow  became  frightened  and  gave  vent  to  a  bellow 
that  brought  the  old  man  from  the  house  with  a 
double-barreled  shotgun.  Quickly  dashing  for 
ward,  he  frightened  the  cow  still  more  and  she 
tore  loose  from  her  moorings  and  rushed  pell- 
mell  straight  for  the  fence  where  the  boys'  horses 
were  tied.  In  the  meantime  we  had  slipped  off 
to  one  side  and  lain  down  to  await  results. 

It  was  not  long  before  we  knew  them.  The 
old  man  had  followed  the  rattle  of  the  corn 
ahead  of  him,  never  dreaming  for  one  moment 
but  that  it  was  the  boys  trying  to  escape  from 
him,  and  just  as  the  cow  was  nearing  the  fence 
where  the  horses  had  been  left,  he  turned  loose, 
with  both  barrels  of  his  gun,  right  down  the 
center  of  the  two  rows  of  corn,  filling  the  cow 
full  of  shot.  With  a  bellow  and  a  bound  she 
dashed  headlone  into  the  fence  where  our  steeds 


32  INCIDENTS    OF   THE 

were  hitched,  knocking  off  several  of  the  rails  and 
causing  the  horses  to  break  loose.  With  fright 
ened  snorts  and  flying  tails  our  riderless  mounts 
made  for  camp,  where  their  arrival  created  no 
small  sensation,  and  an  hour  or  two  after  they 
were  followed  by  a  dozen  very  crestfallen  troop 
ers,  who  were  promptly  gathered  into  the  guard 
house. 

You  should  have  seen  the  fun  the  boys  had  the 
next  day,  marking  time  for  two  hours  bareheaded 
in  the  boiling  hot  sun. 

One  day  after  drill,  while  we  boys  were  lying 
on  the  grass  resting  and  pleasantly  idling  an  hour 
away  under  the  shade  trees  that  skirted  that  beau 
tiful  little  stream  known  as  Salt  River,  an  old  man 
was  observed  slowly  approaching. 

He  had  a  sweet,  kind  face,  and  long,  white, 
curly  locks  of  hair  hanging  down  to  his  shoulders 
(showing  plainly  he  had  been  some  fond  mother's 
curly-headed  boy). 

His  form  was  small  and  slender  and  slightly 
bent  from  at  least  seventy  years  of  earthly 
struggles.  He  was  a  study  to  me  as  he  appealed 
to  different  ones  to  get  him  some  work,  "Any 
thing!  just  to  live!  just  for  some  place  to  stay!  " 

One  of  our  number  said,  "Join  the  army,  my 
bov." 


Salt  River  bridge,  where  Old  Uncle  made  his  first  appearance  in  camp. 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


CIVIL    WAR    IN    MISSOURI  33 

The  old  man  replied,  "They  don't  want  me 
now;  I  am  too  old.  The  army  had  my  young 
life."  Then  he  produced  a  roll  of  paper  bearing 
out  his  assertion. 

"  You  never  carried  a  gun,"  vouchsafed  another, 
"  I  don't  think  you  were  large  enough  to  carry  one ; 
besides,  you  were  never  in  a  fight  when  they  fought 
to  kill,  and  did  kill — in  other  words  a  battle,  a 
charge.  Would  you  stay  in  a  case  like  that?" 

The  old  man  made  no  comment  until  the  young 
fellow  had  finished,  then  with  his  clear  blue  eyes 
almost  flashing  sparks  of  fire,  he  answered,  "My 
dear  boy,  I  did  not  apply  for  a  fighting  position. 
I  never  said  I  would  fight  to  kill,  or  that  I  ever 
had,  I  only  stated  that  I  was  in  the  army,  as  my 
papers  prove.  I  have  done  my  duty  when  a 
soldier  under  the  stars  and  stripes  to  the  best  of 
my  ability,  and  would  defend  it  to-day  if  necessary, 
or  if  an  opportunity  offered.  I  may  seem  weak, 
but  I  would  give  my  strength,  my  life,  if  need  be, 
to  that  grand  old  banner.  Now  that  I  am  old  I 
have  no  home ;  no  one  wants  me,  and  I  am 
hungry  and  tired.  Can  I  rest  here  awhile,  gentle 
men?"  giving  an  appealing  glance  down  the  line. 

For  an  instant  there  was  no  reply.  Then  some 
one  suggested  he  had  better  move  on. 


34  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

Quick  as  a  flash  our  flag-bearer,  Jack  Richards, 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  exclaimed,  "No,  never!" 
(He  too  had  been  studying  the  old  man.) 

Jack  was  a  quiet  unassuming  youngster,  but  he 
had  a  big  heart,  and  it  was  generally  understood 
was  possessed  of  some  means  outside  of  that  which 
he  earned  from  Uncle  Sam. 

He  approached  the  old  man  and  said,  "Uncle." 
(The  boys  laughed  and  said,  "Jack,  found  your 
Uncle,  eh?") 

"Yes,"  Jack  replied,  "He  shall  be  my  Uncle 
while  here.  Now,  Uncle,  what  is  it  you  wish?" 

The  old  man  said,  "Some  place  to  stay,  to  be 
with  somebody,  and  if  in  return  for  that  kindness 
there  is  anything  I  can  do  to  prove  my  apprecia 
tion  just  command  me." 

Jack  took  him  by  the  hand,  led  him  to  the 
mess  tent  and  fed  him,  then  to  the  sutler's  tent, 
fitted  him  from  top  to  toe  with  clothing,  and  gave 
him  blankets,  telling  him  to  stop  around  there. 

Our  new  companion  was  not  very  long  in  camp 
until  we  all  called  him  Uncle,  and  he  won  the 
esteem  and  respect  of  every  one  in  it.  The 
young  man  who  had  been  so  harsh  with  him 
upon  his  arrival  made  ample  apology  for  his 
conduct. 


CIVIL   WAR   IN    MISSOURI  35 

He  was  always  on  hand  if  anyone  in  camp  was 
sick.  You  did  not  have  to  send  for  him.  He 
appeared  to  know  just  what  to  do ;  in  fact,  he  was 
mother  and  father  both  to  the  officers  and  boys. 
Other  companies  associated  with  us  would  send 
for  him,  but  no  one  could  wean  him  away  from 
the  first  friend  he  had  found  in  camp. 

Jack's  slightest  wish  was  law  to  him,  and  when 
the  flag-bearer  was  once  on  the  sick  list  the  poor 
old  man  would  sit  by  his  side  by  the  hour  and 
refused  to  touch  a  morsel  of  food  except  when  Jack 
could  be  induced  to  partake  of  some. 

I  never  saw  such  devotion.  He  won  the  hearts 
of  all  and  his  unostentatious  self-sacrifices  made 
better  men  of  us  all. 

The  old  man  had  but  little  to  say  regarding  his 
past.  His  whole  aim  and  object  in  life  seemed 
to  be  to  repay  Jack  for  the  kindness  which  had 
been  shown  him  when  he  first  came  among  us. 
Little  did  he  think  he  would  some  day  be  called 
upon  to  risk  his  life  at  Jack's  request,  but  when 
the  occasion  did  come  he  was  equal  to  it,  thereby 
according  to  him  a  niche  of  honor  in  our  life-long 
memories  of  the  Civil  War. 

Roberson,  the  comedian  of  the  company,  fig 
ured  in  a  horse  sale  while  we  were  at  Salt  Lake 


36  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

bridge,  which  was  somewhat  characteristic  of  the 
horse  sharp  and  which  still  further  added  to  our 
notoriety. 

He  formed  the  acquaintance  of  a  banker  in 
Mexico  by  the  name  of  Ringo,  who  was  generally 
liked  by  everybody  for  his  genial,  affable  and 
unaffected  manner,  and  who  was  considered  one 
of  the  shrewdest  men  in  a  horse  trade  in  that 
locality,  being  one  of  several  who  bought  horses 
and  sold  them  to  the  Government. 

Mr.  Ringo,  while  in  conversation  with  Mr. 
Roberson,  asked  him  if  he  knew  of  anyone  who 
had  some  horses  for  sale.  Roberson  replied  that 
he  had  a  friend  down  in  Pike  County  who  had  a 
couple  of  very  fine  horses.  Ringo  asked  him  to 
write  to  his  friend  and  tell  him  to  bring  them  up. 

In  a  few  days  Roberson 's  friend  arrived  with  a 
fine  pair  of  sixteen-hand  horses,  and  they  pre 
sented  themselves,  together  with  the  horses,  at 
Mr.  Ringo's  place  of  business. 

Mr.  Ringo  came  out,  looked  the  horses  over 
carefully,  and  stated  that  while  the  span  was 
very  fine  there  was  no  demand  at  present  for 
them  and  he  did  not  care  to  buy  except  at  a  very 
low  figure,  which  he  named.  Roberson  and  his 
friend  were  chagrined  at  this  unexpected  tack  of 


CIVIL   WAR    IN    MISSOURI  37 

the  banker.  As  his  friend  needed  money  and 
the  other  buyers  being  out  of  town,  they  decided 
it  was  best  to  take  Ringo 's  offer  rather  than  lead 
them  back  fifty  or  sixty  miles  and  take  the 
chances  of  having  them  taken  away  from  them  by 
the  enemy.  When  the  horses  were  turned  over 
to  Ringo,  Roberson  noticed  Ringo  chuckling  to 
himself  at  his  clever  ruse  in  the  deal  and  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  play  even  if  an  opportunity 
ever  offered. 

One  day,  a  few  weeks  after  this,  an  old  fellow 
drove  into  camp  with  some  forage.  He  had  a 
splendid-looking  pair  of  sorrels  before  his  wagon 
and  Roberson  noticed  that  in  pulling  up  the 
steep  river  bank  they  were  very  badly  wind 
broken — that  is,  an  extra  exertion  of  any  kind 
would  cause  them  to  throw  their  mouths  wide 
open  and  blow  furiously.  Roberson  approached, 
and  after  quickly  examining  the  span  said,  "Old 
man,  do  you  want  to  sell  those  horses?"  "Yep! 
but  they're  no  account."  Roberson  replied, 
"That's  the  reason  I  want  them." 

"Well,"  the  old  man  responded,  "I  have  one 
more  load  of  corn  to  deliver  before  I  can  receive 
my  voucher,  and  if  you  like  you  may  have  those 
horses  for  forty  dollars  a  piece."  Roberson  sealed 


38  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

the  bargain  at  once  by  paying  him  twenty  dol 
lars,  promising  that  the  balance  would  be  ready 
when  the  horses  were  delivered. 

After  Roberson  received  his  steeds  he  procured 
a  couple  of  what  are  called  halter  bridles — a  strap 
passing  over  the  nose,  well  down  toward  the 
nostrils,  with  a  similar  strap  running  underneath 
the  jaw  with  a  buckle  on  it.  After  the  bit  was 
placed  in  the  horse's  mouth  this  strap  under  the 
jaw  could  be  tightened  up  so  that  it  would  be 
impossible  for  the  horse  to  open  his  mouth  and 
display  his  poor  qualities  as  to  good  wind,  which 
was  one  of  the  principal  qualifications  requisite 
for  a  horse  to  pass  Government  inspection. 

These  horses  made  a  very  fine  appearance. 
They  were  about  eight  years  old  and  had  no 
discernible  blemishes.  Roberson  sent  for  his 
friend  to  come  up  at  once;  then  one  afternoon  he 
took  the  two  sorrels,  put  on  the  halter  bridles  and 
rode  leisurely  past  Ringo's  place. 

Ringo  was  seated  upon  his  porch,  enjoying  his 
after-lunch  cigar.  The  high-stepping  sorrels  at 
once  attracted  his  attention.  They  were  a  pair 
of  thoroughbreds ;  there  could  be  no  mistake  about 
that.  If  he  could  only  secure  them  at  a  reason 
able  figure.  It  was  an  opportunity  not  to  be  lost. 


CIVIL   WAR    IN    MISSOURI  39 

He  arose  and  went  down  to  the  gate.  Roberson 
rode  on  slowly,  seemingly  unconscious  of  the 
horse-dealer's  presence. 

"  Hello!"  Ringo  called.  "Roberson,  do  you 
want  to  sell  those  horses?"  "Not  to  you,"  he 
replied.  Just  at  this  opportune  moment  another 
buyer  approached  Roberson  on  horseback  and 
they  held  a  long  consultation.  (This  meeting  of 
Roberson  and  the  buyer  at  that  particular  time  and 
place  was  well  understood  between  them.)  When 
Ringo's  supposed  opponent  in  this  particular  deal 
had  ridden  away,  he  requested  Roberson  to  ride 
his  horses  up  to  the  gate.  Ringo  looked  them 
over. 

"Trot  them  down  the  road,"  he  requested. 

"What  for?"  Roberson  asked.  "To  see  if 
their  wind  is  all  right,"  Ringo  responded. 

"What  difference  does  that  make  to  you?  I 
I  wouldn't  sell  them  to  you,  anyway;  besides, 
I  wouldn't  trot  barefooted  horses  over  the  rough 
cobbles  on  this  street." 

At  that  Roberson  rode  away.  As  he  did  so 
Ringo  called  out  if  he  would  come  back  and 
tie  those  two  animals  up  and  take  off  their 
saddles,  he  would  give  him  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars.  The  profitable  deal  in  which  he  had 


40  INCIDENTS   OF  THE 

figured  with  these  two  men  was  still  fresh  in  his 
mind,  as  it  was  also  in  Roberson's  and  his  friend's. 
They  rode  back,  turned  over  the  horses  and 
received  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  The 
horses  were  sent  to  the  corral,  where  there 
were  two  or  three  carloads  of  horses  in  waiting  to 
be  shipped  to  St.  Louis  the  next  day.  This  little 
trick  leaked  out  among  all  the  dealers  opposed  to 
Ringo  in  the  horse  market,  and  ail  were  watching 
and  waiting  in  readiness  to  take  the  train  to  St. 
Louis,  as  soon  as  the  shipment  was  made,  to  see 
the  fun  at  the  inspection. 

As  a  number  of  boys  in  camp  had  gotten  wind 
of  this  amusing  incident  they  secured  furloughs 
and  went  along  with  Roberson  and  the  other 
horsemen,  unknown  to  Ringo. 

The  inspection  consisted  of  running  the  horses 
from  a  quarter  to  half  a  mile  under  full  speed, 
then  returning  and  jumping  poles  two  feet  high 
from  the  ground,  to  test  their  wind  and  limbs. 

We  arrived  on  the  spot  in  due  time.  Crowds 
were  lined  up  on  either  side  of  the  testing-track 
to  watch  the  performance. 

Up  to  this  time  Mr.  Ringo  had  the  credit  of 
selling  the  Government  some  of  the  finest  cavalry 
and  artillery  horses  that  ever  led  a  charge.  He 


CIVIL   WAR  IN    MISSOURI  41 

was  proud  of  this  distinction,  and  was  always  on 
hand  to  witness  the  performance  of  his  steeds. 
So  often  had  he  been  there  and  gone  through 
this  that  he  became  a  familiar  figure  to  the  fre 
quenters  of  the  testing-track.  This  day  quite 
a  number  of  his  horses  were  brought  out,  and  I 
must  say  their  performances  were  creditable  to 
the  buyer. 

We  were  watching,  with  no  small  amount  of 
anxiety,  to  see  the  two  sorrels  make  their  appear 
ance. 

We  were  sure  they  would  bring  them  together, 
for  they  were  high-headed  and  made  a  splendid 
appearance  when  standing  still.  Finally  they 
dashed  from  the  stables,  under  whip  and  spur, 
with  their  mouths  wide  open,  blowing  like  two 
sea-lions;  the  shouts  that  went  up  from  the 
crowd  frightened  the  animals  and  they  became 
unmanageable.  The  inspectors  signaled  and 
called  for  the  riders  to  return,  but  they  were  pow 
erless  to  do  so;  the  horses  continued  to  plunge 
and  blow,  and  the  thousands  of  people  along  the 
line  were  convulsed  with  laughter. 

Ringo  was  dumbfounded,  sending  his  men  in 
all  directions  to  see  if  there  was  anyone  present 
from  Mexico  to  witness  his  defeat.  It  was  not 


42  INCIDENTS   OF   THE 

long,  however,  before  he  discovered  where  the 
boys  were  stopping  who  had  played  even  with 
him  on  the  former  horse  deal.  He  had  their  hotel 
bill  arranged  for,  without  their  knowledge,  and 
on  our  return  from  Mexico,  Roberson  and  a  few 
of  his  friends  who  were  with  him  in  St.  Louis 
were  invited  to  Mr.  Ringo's  home  and  banqueted 
in  an  up-to-date  style.  He  said  he  had  more  fun 
out  of  that  horse  deal  than  anything  that  had 
occurred  in  all  his  life. 

We  drilled  for  a  time  at  Salt  River,  and  I 
became  restless  and  longed  for  adventure.  My 
thoughts  wandered  back  to  an  old  friend  of  mine 
by  the  name  of  Foster,  with  whom  I  had  roomed 
for  a  year  or  two  before  the  war. 

He  had  at  one  time  been  a  star  actor  and  an 
athlete  as  well.  Having  given  up  the  histrionic 
profession  he  came  to  our  town  to  live  on  account 
of  his  health.  He  had  a  trunkful  of  stage 
paraphernalia,  and  we  frequently  had  amateur 
plays.  He  fixed  me  up  for  the  occasion  and  I 
generally  made  a  hit  when  he  did  so. 

My  last  appearance  was  in  "Widow  Bedott,"a 
benefit  given  for  the  Sunday-school  in  the  little 
town  where  I  lived.  The  village  belle,  Miss 
Anna  Bay,  appeared  as  the  Widow  Bedott,  and 
I  took  the  part  of  Elder  Sniffles. 


CIVIL   WAR  IN    MISSOURI  43 

Miss  Bay  was  very  retiring  in  her  manners,  and 
had  never  been  known  to  participate  in  anything 
of  the  kind  before,  but  as  she  was  one  of  the 
leaders  in  the  Sunday-school  she  had  to  do  her 
part,  although  it  required  a  great  amount  of 
persuasion  to  obtain  her  consent. 

The  night  the  benefit  came  off  the  hall  was 
crowded  to  the  door.  Miss  Bay  was  fair  of  face 
and  form,  with  a  pretty  little  foot  to  match,  and 
she  knew  it.  As  I  was  sitting  under  the  tree 
listening  to  her  part  there  was  a  house  broom 
standing  near,  and  in  moving  it  a  large  straw 
happened  to  fall.  As  I  glanced  at  the  pretty 
slipper  showing  off  her  foot  and  ankle  to  such  an 
advantage,  I  picked  up  that  straw  and  stuck  it 
through  the  stocking  just  above  the  slipper.  She 
felt  the  sting  of  the  straw,  sprang  forward,  grabbed 
the  broom,  and  with  the  flat  part  struck  me  on 
the  top  of  my  plug  hat  and  drove  it  down  over 
my  eyes,  breaking  my  glasses  and  at  the  same 
time  nearly  stunning  me;  she  then  ran  off  the 
stage.  Being  unable  to  remove  the  hat,  I  was 
blind,  so  to  speak.  Up  to  this  time  the  play  was 
dry  to  me  and  the  audience  did  not  seem  to 
appreciate  my  position,  but  when  that  hat  came 
down  over  my  ears  the  house  rang  with  laughter 


44  INCIDENTS    OF   THE 

and  cheers.  They  had  seen  my  little  maneuver 
and  it  met  with  overwhelming  applause. 

I  got  up  and  remained  standing,  wondering 
what  in  the  world  to  do.  The  prompter  behind 
the  scenes,  not  knowing  what  had  happened  when 
there  was  a  lull,  spoke  so  loudly  that  nearly  all 
the  audience  could  hear  him  admonishing  me  thus  : 

"Bow  your  acknowledgments;  bow  your 
acknowledgments!  "  The  audience  went  wild,  so 
I  bowed  again  and  again,  not  knowing  my  back 
was  turned  to  the  house. 

The  prompter  discovered  my  position  and  took 
me  off  the  stage.  Then  and  there  the  young 
lady's  sweetheart,  Andy  Wilson,  challenged  me 
to  a  fist-fight  for  what  I  had  done. 

I  thought  of  my  friend  Foster's  gloves,  and 
wondered  if  he  would  train  me. 

So  I  told  the  infuriated  youth  I  would  lick  him 
to  a  finish  in  twenty-one  days  from  that  time.  I 
pleaded  I  was  sick  and  was  not  well  then,  and  it 
would  be  no  credit  to  him  to  lick  a  sick  boy.  He 
assented  to  the  twenty-one  days. 

This  occurred  behind  the  curtain,  but  the  show 
stopped  then  and  there. 

I  went  to  my  room,  told  my  friend  what  had 
happened,  and  asked  him  what  I  should  do. 


CIVIL   WAR  IX    MISSOURI  45 

''Give  him  a  surprise  party,"  he  said.  I  asked 
him  what  he  meant  by  that,  so  he  said  he  would 
fix  up  an  old  pair  of  gloves  he  had,  and  train  me 
to  make  a  punching-bag  of  him.  "Give  him  the 
gloves  to  put  on  the  day  of  the  fight,  but  don't  tell 
him  you  have  been  training,"  was  Foster's  advice. 

We  met,  but  called  it  off.  Nevertheless,  that 
training  assisted  me  in  carrying  out  a  most  daring 
scheme  as  a  spy.  Afterward  we  joined  the  same 
military  company  and  became  good  friends  again. 
Miss  Anna  Bay,  his  sweetheart,  forgave  me  for 
that  little  trick  I  played  upon  her  on  the  night  of 
the  amateur  show.  She  often  wrote  to  the  boy 
she  loved,  and  we  all  looked  forward  to  the  day 
when  her  letter  would  arrive,  and  we  would  hud 
dle  together  to  hear  the  home  news  dished  up  in 
a  most  entertaining  way.  Her  letters  were  full 
of  interest,  as  well  as  ready  wit  and  humor,  and 
she  never  forgot  to  give  his  comrades  words  of 
good  cheer. 

While  lying  around  the  camp  I  got  to  thinking 
about  my  old  friend  Foster,  and  washing  he  was 
in  the  land  of  the  living.  Poor  fellow,  he  died 
just  before  the  war  broke  out.  He  left  me  a  box 
of  his  wigs  and  facial  fixings,  and  had  taught  me 
how  to  make  up  until  I  was  fairly  good  at  it. 


46  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

So  I  wrote  to  a  friend  of  mine,  telling  him 
where  I  had  left  this  box  and  asking  him  to  ship 
it  to  me  at  Mexico.  In  due  time  the  box  arrived; 
I  became  restless. 

Now  and  then  some  of  the  companies  from  the 
regiment  would  go  out  in  the  direction  of  the 
Missouri  River  and  have  a  brush  with  the  enemy, 
but  almost  invariably  without  satisfactory  results, 
as  the  wily  foe  generally  disappeared  before  we 
had  an  opportunity  to  strike. 

My  father  was  first  lieutenant  in  another 
regiment  and  I  was  allowed  to  visit  him  occasion 
ally.  One  day,  just  after  he  had  returned  from  a 
reconnoitering  trip,  I  went  with  him  to  Colonel 
Grant's  tent. 

The  colonel  said  to  him,  "If  it  was  only  possible 
to  get  some  one  familiar  with  the  country  and 
not  known  by  the  people  to  go  in  there,  find  out 
their  haunts  and  customs,  and  how  they  manage 
to  disperse  so  quickly  and  get  together  apparently 
as  readily,  it  would  be  of  great  advantage  to  us." 
I  spoke  up  and  said,  "  I  know  the  country  and 
some  of  the  people,  and  I  can  do  it." 

The  colonel  smiled  and  my  father  looked  very 
much  annoyed  because  I  had  spoken.  I  said 
no  more  to  them,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I 


CIVIL    WAR    IN    MISSOURI  47 

would  disguise  myself  and  go ;  but  I  must  confide 
in  some  one.  I  thought  of  Dobbins,  the  mail 
agent  on  the  North  Missouri  (now  the  Wabash), 
and  waited  that  night  until  his  train  came  down. 
I  jumped  on  his  car  and  said,  "  Dave,  write  my 
father,  just  as  soon  as  you  get  in,  that  I  am  in 
St.  Louis,  came  down  with  you,  in  order  to  reach 
him  by  to-morrow  night."  Then  I  told  Dave 
briefly  my  plans. 

I  flew  to  camp,  took  all  my  belongings,  and 
went  up  town  that  night  and  got  a  room  in  a 
lodging-house.  -  Then  I  went  to  a  second-hand 
clothing  store  and  bought  a  pair  of  pants  which 
did  not  reach  the  tops  of  my  shoes  by  four  inches, 
and  in  which  there  were  numerous  patches ;  an 
old  pair  of  brogan  shoes,  both  for  the  same  foot ; 
a  vest,  short  and  ragged ;  a  jacket  coat  which  was 
altogether  too  large ;  and  a  dirty  looking  white 
slouch  hat,  with  a  hole  in  the  middle,  completed 
my  outfit. 

Then  going  back  to  my  rooms,  I  donned  the 
clothes,  hid  my  uniform  in  an  old  attic,  fixed  my 
facial  expression,  and  put  on  a  well-fitting  wig 
with  long,  dirty  looking  hair.  When  I  put  on 
that  hat,  with  a  lock  pulled  through  the  hole  in 
the  crown,  I  really  looked  an  object  of  pity. 


48  INCIDENTS   OF   THE 

In  order  to  get  into  the  enemy's  lines  and  make 
a  success  of  my  undertaking  I  knew  I  must  devise 
some  way  to  obtain  access  to  the  guardhouse  with 
the  suspects  they  had  confined  there.  I  felt  sure 
I  could  accomplish  it  if  my  identity  was  not  dis 
covered  before  I  got  in,  for  they  were  arresting 
everybody  who  looked  the  least  bit  suspicious. 
The  suspects  were  given  their  liberty  if  there  was 
nothing  found  against  them,  and  my  hopes  were 
that  I  was  to  be  arrested  and  then  turned  loose 
with  some  of  the  Rebel  prisoners. 

I  secured  an  old  abandoned  mare  from  the 
commons,  a  rope  bridle,  and  a  saddle  to  match. 
This  animal  had  been  handsome  in  her  younger 
days,  but  that  era  of  her  life  had  long  since 
departed.  Taking  some  small  memorandum 
books  and  pencil  which  I  secreted  in  my  shoes, 
I  presented  myself  at  the  colonel's  tent  about 
dusk. 

One  of  the  staff  officers  came  out  and  said, 
"Well,  my  boy,  what  do  you  want?" 

"  I  want  work,  sir." 

"What  kind  of  work?" 

"Well,  'most  anything;  I'd  like  to  be  a  sol 
dier." 

"What!  you  a  soldier?" 


The  boy  spy. 


•   -  "  ~- 


CIVIL   WAR   IN   MISSOURI  to 

In  a  moment  a  suspicious  look  came  into  his 
eyes,  and  he  proceeded  to  question  me  still  further. 

"What's  your  name?" 

I  answered,  "Sammy  Smith." 

With  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  "Very  uncom 
mon  name.  Where  do  you  live?" 

"Everywhere." 

He  walked  up  close  to  me,  and  looking  me 
square  in  the  face  until  my  heart  almost  failed 
me,  said,  "  Say,  my  boy,  where  have  you  been  the 
last  two  or  three  months?" 

The  question  nearly  paralyzed  me,  but  I  thought 
a  moment.  I  must  be  equal  to  the  occasion,  or 
the  boys  would  guy  me  into  the  next  world.  1 
replied,  "  I  have  been  sick  for  a  long  time." 

"Where?"  he  quickly  asked. 

"  In  the  county  hospital,  sir." 

"What  county?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,  and  I  ain't  very  well  just 
now,  sir." 

Quicker  than  a  flash  he  replied,  "  If  you  are  as 
sick  as  you  look,  your  funeral  is  over.  Say,  my 
boy,  where  is  your  father?" 

"  Don't  know,  sir." 

"Your  mother?" 

•'  Don't  know,  sir;  guess  I  ain't  got  any." 


50  INCIDENTS    OF   THE 

He  looked  me  all  over  for  a  few  minutes,  pulled 
the  old  mare's  tail,  felt  the  bundle  of  rags  tied  on 
the  back  of  the  saddle,  and  I  expected  every 
moment  he  would  look  through  my  clothing, 
especially  as  I  was  in  a  manner  round-shouldered 
from  the  wigs  and  things  I  had  stored  away 
under  my  coat  on  my  back  to  disguise  myself 
with  when  occasion  required. 

But  he  didn't.  Instead,  he  hustled  me  off  to 
the  guardhouse  and  the  old  mare  to  the  corral. 

I  was  placed  with  other  prisoners,  and  they, 
too,  looked  upon  me  with  suspicion,  imagining, 
no  doubt,  that  I  was  placed  in  there  to  hear  what 
they  had  to  say.  Now  I  knew  I  was  in  for  it, 
and  had  to  make  the  best  of  it.  I  must  work 
myself  into  the  good  graces  of  the  prisoners. 

After  I  had  been  under  guard  for  awhile  I 
began  to  debate  in  my  mind  whether  that  cuss 
knew  me  or  just  wanted  to  see  if  I  had  the  pluck, 
sense  and  good  judgment  to  carry  out  such  a 
dangerous  and  valuable  project,  or  didn't  he 
really  know  me  and  merely  suspected  that  I  was 
a  spy  for  the  Rebels? 

Well,  I  thought,  there  is  but  one  thing  to  do 
and  that  is  to  play  it  out  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 
My  father  had  received  a  letter  from  Mr. 


CIVIL    WAR   IN    MISSOURI  51 

Dobbins  stating  that  I  had  gone  to  St.  Louis, 
and  this  becoming  known  in  camp  satisfactorily 
explained  my  absence.  Hearing  this  talked  over 
by  the  guards  outside  where  I  was  imprisoned,  I 
resolved  not  to  let  the  slightest  opportunity  pass 
which  would  enable  me  to  accomplish  my  object. 

After  being  in  the  guardhouse  all  night  and 
the  next  day  life  became  monotonous,  and  the 
prisoners,  some  six  in  number,  did  not  seem  to 
take  kindly  to  me  until  after  the  second  night, 
when  one  of  the  prisoners,  well  advanced  in  years 
and  rather  frail,  was  taken  sick.  I  was  fairly 
good  at  nursing  and  went  to  work  and  heated 
bricks  and  placed  them  around  his  limbs  to  keep 
him  warm. 

It  was  a  dark  night  and  the  only  light  we  had 
was  that  from  the  fireplace  in  the  loghouse  where 
we  were  imprisoned. 

About  twelve  o'clock  I  heard  a  clink  of  dishes 
at  the  door  outside,  where  the  guard  was,  so  I 
peeped  through  a  crack  and  saw  that  he  had 
ordered  from  a  near-by  restaurant  a  most  appetiz 
ing  little  repast.  I  knew  from  the  aroma  that  it 
was  accompanied  by  some  real  coffee,  not  army 
mess  beverage.  As  it  was  within  easy  reach  of 
the  door,  and  the  guard  could  only  take  a  sip 


52  INCIDENTS    OF  THE 

now  and  then  (he  was  not  allowed  to  stop  on  his 
beat)  as  he  walked  to  and  fro,  I  concluded  that 
I  would  just  take  that  lunch  to  the  old  man 
when  the  sentry  got  to  the  further  end  of  his 
beat. 

I  called  to  the  old  man's  son,  "  Cover  over  the 
coals  in  the  fireplace  with  ashes  and  dirt  so  that 
the  guard  cannot  see  in."  The  fire  was  darkened 
at  once.  I  opened  the  door  just  the  least  bit, 
poured  the  coffee  into  one  of  the  tin  cups,  took 
what  chicken  and  other  goodies  I  could  get,  and 
placing  them  in  a  towel,  put  it  under  the  old 
man's  blanket  so  that  he  could  eat  it  without 
being  detected. 

The  old  man  had  taken  but  a  little  when  he 
said  to  me,  "God  bless  you  honey,  my  poor  little 
unfortunate  boy,  you  have  helped  me."  In  an 
instant  his  son  turned  to  me  and  extending  his 
hand,  gave  me  a  hearty  shake. 

By  this  time  the  guard  outside  had  missed  his 
lunch  and  he  was  expressing,  in  loud  tones,  his 
opinion  of  anyone  who  would  do  such  a  thing. 

As  I  knew  that  he  could  not  recognize  my 
voice  I  proceeded  to  have  some  fun  at  his 
expense,  so  I  said,  "Keep  still  out  there;  we 
can't  sleep." 


CIVIL    WAR  IN    MISSOURI       .  53 

He  replied,  "Some  one  has  stolen  my  supper 
and  if  I  knew  who  it  was  who  did  it  I'd  put  a 
bayonet  through  him." 

I  told  him  to  come  in  and  try  it  for  I  had 
stolen  it. 

He  thought  I  was  only  teasing  him,  and  I  was 
just  as  well  pleased  that  he  took  it  that  way ;  but 
my  bluff  worked,  for  he  said  he  knew  who  did  it, 
the  same  chap  had  done  it  once  before. 

My  prison  comrades  felt  relieved,  for  they 
were  sure  I  would  be  caught  and  punished ;  but 
I  told  them  I  did  not  care,  for  the  officer  who 
ordered  me  under  arrest  said  I  would  not  live 
very  long  anyway.  This  little  episode  placed  me 
in  good  favor  with  the  prisoners  and  they  began 
to  look  upon  me  as  the  real  thing,  and  as  one 
who  could  and  would  do  a  good  turn  for  them. 

After  a  couple  of  days  they  took  five  of  us  out, 
gave  us  our  horses  and  then,  escorted  by  six 
mounted  men,  all  strangers  to  me,  we  were 
sent  outside  the  picket  lines  some  five  miles 
distant. 

One  of  the  escort  got  very  fresh  with  me  and 
annoyed  me  greatly  by  pulling  my  hair,  as  he 
supposed  (I  was  afraid  he  would  pull  my  wig  off 
and  expose  the  whole  thing).  He  was  about  my 


54  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

size,  but  owing  to  my  dress  I  looked  much 
smaller  than  he. 

Finally,  I  got  so  exasperated  I  told  him  if  he 
was  not  armed  I  would  give  him  a  good  punch 
ing.  In  an  instant  he  proposed  to  disarm  and 
fight. 

The  others  of  the  guard  were  older  men,  and  I 
knew  they  would  see  fair  play.  After  they  had 
promised  to  keep  his  gun  till  we  were  out  of 
reach  I  consented  to  fight  him. 

The  soldiers  were  all  eager  for  the  fun.  The 
prisoners  did  not  relish  the  proposition,  for  they 
feared  it  might  end  in  harm  to  me. 

I  knew  that  all  I  had  to  do  in  case  the  worst 
came  was  to  show  them  who  I  was  and  they 
would  not  dare  to  do  or  say  anything. 

So  we  dismounted  and  stationed  ourselves 
some  ten  feet  apart.  He,  as  I  expected,  made  a 
wild  rush,  and  when  near  me  I  dropped  on  my 
knees  with  my  head  close  to  the  ground  and 
butted  him  on  the  legs;  he  fell  headlong  over 
me,  bringing  his  face  in  contact  with  the  ground 
and  stunning  him.  When  he  arose  and  faced 
me  I  quickly  placed  one  foot  under  his  guard 
against  his  chest  and  with  a  half  push  and  a  kick 
sent  him  sprawling  again  on  the  ground. 


CIVIL    WAR  IN    MISSOURI  55 

By  this  time  all  the  on-lookers  were  convulsed 
with  laughter,  and  as  he  struck  the  ground  the 
second  time  I  turned  a  somersault,  caught  the 
horn  of  my  saddle,  sprang  upon  the  old  mare  and 
we  started  up  the  road. 

The  spectators  were  bursting  their  sides  with 
laughter  at  my  opponent's  defeat,  and  as  he  did 
not  care  to  be  humiliated  any  more  before  them 
for  their  amusement  he  did  not  offer  to  renew 
the  combat. 

The  escort  came  near  taking  me  back  to  camp 
as  they  felt  sure  I  had  been  liberated  by  mistake, 
but  I  told  them  they  would  be  disobeying  orders 
to  do  that,  so  they  let  me  go. 

After  we  were  released  by  the  squad  of  soldiers 
and  told  to  move  on  we  could  hear  them  for  some 
distance  laughing  at  their  young  comrade's 
misfortune  and  saying,  "No  one  can  tell  by  the 
looks  of  a  toad  how  far  it  can  jump." 

We  rode  on  some  little  distance  in  silence.  At 
last,  the  one  who  had  had  the  least  to  say  to  me 
and  who  evidently  entertained  some  suspicions  of 
me  broke  the  monotony  by  calling  a  halt  under 
some  shade  trees,  and  facing  me  squarely  and 
looking  at  me  more  carefully  than  before  said 
"My  boy,  you  are  not  what  you  pretend  to  be, 


56  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

and  you  can  go  no  further  until  I  know  more 
of  you." 

His  keen  piercing  eyes  told  me  that  he  meant 
it,  and  his  actions  clearly  proved  that  he  was  a 
man  of  importance  in  the  enemy's  ranks. 

For  an  instant  the  fear  that  he  had  penetrated 
my  disguise  staggered  me,  but  I  thought  a 
moment  and  then  asked,  "What  do  you  want  to 
know  about  me  ?  I  can  only  tell  you  what  I  know 
about  myself  and  I  will  gladly  answer  any  and  all 
the  questions  you  ask." 

"Well,  where  do  you  live?" 

"  Anywhere,"  I  replied. 

"Who  can  you  refer  me  to?" 

"No  one." 

"What  have  you  been  doing  for  a  living?" 

"Oh!  I  have  been  with  a  circus  ever  since  I 
was  a  little  boy,"  I  answered. 

That  appeared  to  allay  his  suspicions  for  the 
time  being,  for  he  said,  "We'll  take  you  along 
and  test  your  ability  to  convince  us  that  you  were 
a  circus  boy.  I  almost  believe  that  you  have  at 
some  time  belonged  to  a  circus  since  I  saw  you 
lick  that  young  Yankee." 

So  we  proceeded  on  our  journey.  I  noticed 
that  the  sergeant's  dog  had  followed  us  instead 


CIVIL    WAR  IN    MISSOURI  57 


of  returning  with  the  soldiers,  so  I  got  off  my 
horse  and  took  part  of  my  rope  bridle  and  tied  it 
around  his  neck.  My  inquisitor  noticed  this  in  a 
moment  and  asked  me  what  I  was  going  to  do 
with  the  dog.  I  told  him,  as  he  wanted  me  to 
show  my  ability  as  a  circus  boy,  I  intended  to 
take  the  dog  along  to  teach  him  some  tricks. 

We  rode  along  until  dark,  when  at  a  certain 
point  the  company  separated,  my  questioner 
beckoning  me  to  follow  him.  We  went  through 
the  woods,  and  every  now  and  then  he  would 
stop  and  examine  the  trees.  I  noticed  there  were 
little  knots  tied  to  the  limbs  of  the  young  trees, 
and  these  he  would  carefully  scrutinize.  The 
marks  were  just  high  enough  to  be  easily  seen  by 
one  on  horseback,  indicating  clearly  that  they 
were  intended  as  signs  to  guide  those  who  under 
stood  them  to  some  camp  or  rendezvous;  this 
afterward  proved  to  be  the  case.  This  was  the 
secret  of  the  rapid  movement  of  the  enemy.  It 
demonstrated  how,  when  attacked,  they  would 
scatter  with  no  understanding  to  the  place  of 
concentration;  but  the  knots  in  those  limbs,  when 
understood,  told  their  own  story. 

We  arrived  at  their  place  of  rendezvous  early 
the  next  morning  and  I  was  placed  under  guard. 


rS  INCIDENTS    OF   THE 

It  soon  got  noised  about  that  I  was  an 
acrobat  or  circus  boy  of  some  kind,  and  they 
were  anxious  to  see  me  perform. 

I  told  them  as  my  dog  would  need  training  to 
make  the  show  interesting  they  must  give  me 
more  freedom  in  some  secluded  place  where  I 
could  put  my  canine  assistant  through  his  paces, 
and  that  when  he  had  been  sufficiently  instructed 
I  would  entertain  them  to  a  finish,  but  that  two 
or  three  days'  time  would  be  required  to  accom 
plish  this.  The  officers  readily  consented,  for  it 
had  become  monotonous  for  the  soldiers  and 
they  were  eager  for  fun. 

So  they  put  me  and  the  dog  in  an  old  out 
building,  with  permission  to  select  any  of  the 
boys  to  help  me  in  the  performance  if  I  wished. 
And  I  went  to  work  in  earnest. 

In  obtaining  information  as  to  the  size  of  the 
camp,  the  preparations  made  for  its  defense, 
topography  of  the  country  surrounding  it,  and 
other  data,  such  as  I  desired,  I  was  compelled  to 
use  the  utmost  caution.  A  false  step  would  have 
been  fatal;  after  many  narrow  escapes  from 
detection  I  thought  I  had  sufficient  information. 

" Three  thousand  men,  partly  armed;  plenty  of 
grit;  not  much  food  and  little  ammunition;  no 


The  dog  that  carried  the  despatch. 


CIVIL    WAR    IN    MISSOURI  59 

regularity  of  arms;  eight  pieces  of  artillery  made 
from  six-inch  gas  pipe  from  Mexico,  banded  with 
wrought  iron  bands,  all  loaded  and  mounted  on 
two  farm  wagon  wheels,  and  will  blow  up  when 
fired;  breast-works  across  a  wide  flat  canyon 
made  from  dirt  and  trees,  no  underbrush  in  front. 
Follow  knots,  freshly  knotted,  tied  about  twigs 
in  small  limbs;  leave  road  at  a  tall  black  snag; 
noontime  best  time  to  attack;  they  are  more  off 
their  guard  then  than  at  night  or  morning. 

"  DOBBINS." 

I  returned  to  my  quarters,  wrote  the  facts  I 
had  collected  in  a  little  note-book  and  tied  it 
securely  around  the  dog's  neck.  I  thought  a 
moment  after  tying  it  on,  and  I  said  to  myself, 
"No,  I'll  not  send  it.  I'll  never  be  the  one  to 
bring  our  own  flesh  and  blood  in  battle.  They 
are  our  very  own,  as  brave  and  good  as  we 
are  and  where  have  I  met  kinder  and  better 


men." 


Then  the  other  side  of  the  argument  presented 
itself  to  my  mind,  "Knowing  the  Southern 
people  as  I  do,  should  they  find  out  who  I  really 
was  and  that  I  had  turned  traitor  to  my  own  flag 
by  not  sending  the  message  I  had  vowed  to  send, 
they  would  loathe  and  despise  me." 


60  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

My  duty  in  the  matter  appeared  perfectly  clear, 
so  after  dark  I  took  the  dog  and  crept  to  the  out 
skirts  of  the  camp,  and  after  patting  and  talking 
to  him  in  the  way  dogs  love,  I  told  him  to  go. 
The  faithful  animal  seemed  to  comprehend  what 
was  required  of  him  and  instantly  disappeared  in 
the  woods.  Would  he  have  sense  enough  to  find 
his  master,  the  sergeant,  or  would  he  come  back 
to  the  camp  seeking  me  and  bearing  the  message 
which,  if  intercepted,  would  mean  my  death? 
Rest  assured  I  passed  an  anxious  night. 

Owing  to  the  change  of  guards  the  absence  of 
my  dog  was  not  noticed  by  them,  but  I  -was 
watched  very  closely. 

The  third  day  a  lot  of  girls  came  to  see  me, 
and  they  poked  all  sorts  of  fun  at  me.  One  ven 
tured  to  ask  me  if  I  was  a  Yankee.  I  said, 
"Yes."  She  said,  "I  thought  Yankees  had 
horns."  I  replied/  "As  a  rule  they  have,  but  I 
am  a  Muley." 

The  next  night  would  be  the  night  of  the 
fourth  day,  and  I  promised  the  show  would  come 
off  then.  Therefore,  by  eleven  o'clock  I  was 
turning  handsprings  and  dancing  to  amuse  them, 
as  they  thought,  but  I  had  to  keep  up  my  cour 
age,  for  I  felt  satisfied  that  the  dog  had  landed 


i  _ 


Violin  that  was  captured  where  Old  Uncle  made  his 
last  charge. 


CIVIL   WAR    IN    MISSOURI  61 

my  note.  My  father  would  recognize  my  hand 
writing,  would  understand  the  situation,  and  the 
attack  was  liable  to  be  made  now,  I  thought,  at 
any  moment. 

I  kept  on  dancing  and  now  and  then,  for  a 
change,  playing  some  sweet  old  melodies  on  an 
old  violin  they  had  given  me,  my  heart  in  my 
throat,  as  it  were.  But  I  continued  to  keep  up 
my  spirits,  for  I  knew  did  I  falter  for  one  moment 
and  show  my  feelings  or  betray  my  anxiety  watch 
ing  for  the  boys,  or  allow  my  nerves  to  give  way, 
my  doom  was  sealed.  But  I  must  have  amused 
them,  for  the  officer  said,  "  My  boy,  when  did 
you  ever  have  so  much  fun  before?"  I  replied, 
"When  I  had  the  measles." 

One  of  them  said,  "Well,  is  your  performance 
about  ready  to  come  off?"  I  replied,  "  Not  later 
than  this  evening."  Then  noticing  the  absence 
of  my  dog  he  asked  where  it  was.  I  replied, 
"That  dog  is  a  wonder;  I  have  sent  him  on  a 
little  run  and  when  he  returns  the  performance 
will  commence  without  delay." 

I  had  hardly  finished  that  sentence  when,  sure 
enough,  as  I  had  anticipated  (it  being  about 
12:30)  I  heard  shots  from  the  Rebel  pickets  and 
saw  men  running  from  every  direction  toward 


62  INCIDENTS   OF   THE 

the  fortification,  and  all  who  had  been  watching 
me,  including  the  guard,  fled  and  left  me  alone. 

At  that  instant  I  saw  our  men  dash  from  the 
woods  directly  in  front  of  the  breastworks,  some 
thousand  yards  distant  from  where  I  was.  I  at 
once  discovered  them  to  be  four  companies  of 
cavalry  that  had  been  at  Salt  River  bridge  for  a 
long  time,  my  company  being  one  of  the  number. 

The  house  in  which  I  was  quartered  was  almost 
midway  between  the  two  opposing  forces,  just 
off  to  one  side,  so  that  I  could  Took  down  the  line 
and  plainly  see  all  that  was  going  on,  as  it  was 
open  ground  in  front  of  the  parapet. 

As  soon  as  they  emerged  from  the  woods  the 
force  swung  into  line  without  a  moment's  delay. 
The  company  I  belonged  to  was  on  the  right 
and  nearest  to  me.  The  first  man  I  recognized 
in  the  ranks  was  our  old  Uncle,  on  a  black 
charger,  the  finest  horse  in  the  regiment,  side  by 
side  with  Jack,  the  flag-bearer. 

Even  at  the  distance  which  separated  us  I 
could  hear  the  shouts  by  the  major  in  command, 
" Dismount!  Advance!  Steady!  Steady,  men!" 
It  was  no  place  for  a  cavalry  charge,  and  the  men 
advanced  some  fifty  feet  ahead  of  their  horses  and 
then  halted,  evidently  thinking  themselves  well 


CIVIL   WAR   IN    MISSOURI  63 

out  of  rifle  range  of  the  enemy  and  apparently 
awaiting  reinforcements,  when  suddenly  from  the 
protected  position  which  the  enemy  held  came 
a  thousands  puffs  of  smoke  and  fire  and  the 
deafening  crash  of  rifle  volley. 

Our  ranks  swayed;  men  fell  dead  and  wounded. 
I  sprang  from  my  place  of  cover  to  do  what  I 
could  for  those  dear  to  me. 

What  I  witnessed  there  in  a  few  brief  moments 
seemed  days  and  years  of  anxiety,  and  what  I  saw 
I  can  only  give  a  feeble  description  of  in  compar 
ison  to  its  reality. 

Jack  Richards,  our  flag-bearer,  fell  mortally 
wounded.  Old  Uncle,  hatless,  with  his  long 
white  curly  locks  receding  now  and  then  from  his 
slender  neck  and  shoulders,  as  the  gentle  breezes 
kissed  them,  sprang  forward  like  a  maddened 
tigress  protecting  her  young,  to  Jack's  side.  Jack 
raised  his  head  and  said,  "  Uncle,  take  my  flag  and 
plant  it  on  those  breastworks." 

With  the  fire  of  youth  in  his  eyes  the  old  man 
grabbed  the  flagstaff  and  dashed  forward.  As  he 
did  so  he  cried,  ''Charge  them,  boys!  Charge 
them!  The  lines  swayed  forward.  The  offi 
cers  along  the  line  sang  out,  "  Steady  men! 
Steady!"  Not  a  shot  had  as  yet  been  fired  from 
our  lines. 


61  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

All  this  time  old  Uncle  was  rushing  forward, 
under  the  bright  noonday  sun,  toward  the  breast 
works  in  front,  alone,  in  plain  view  of  all,  every 
man  watching  him  with  bated  breath,  when  sud 
denly  he  was  seen  to  fall  to  his  knees  again  and 
again  and  then  struggle  to  his  feet  with  the  blood 
streaming  over  his  long  white  hair;  and  as  he 
arose  for  the  fourth  time  he  made  another  appeal 
to  the  boys  for  a  charge. 

Words  are  inadequate  to  describe  what  hap 
pened  when  they  saw  one  so  dear  to  them  all 
covered  with  blood,  pleading  for  a  charge  in  lan 
guage  and  tones  that  went  straight  to  the  heart. 

A  simultaneous  shout  went  up  from  the  officers 
and  men,  "Charge!  and  hold  your  fire!"  A 
dash — a  cheer!  and  a  rush  of  maddened  men  that 
made  the  earth  tremble.  No  power  on  earth 
could  have  held  them  back.  Onward  they  went, 
dashing  over  the  breastworks  and  pouring  in  a 
deadly  fire. 

At  the  same  instant  the  old  man  reached  the 
top  of  the  breastworks,  planted  his  flag,  and  fell 
riddled  with  the  enemy's  bullets. 

The  enemy  fell  back  badly  defeated.  When 
the  battle  was  over  strong  men  knelt  beside  the 
old  man's  body  and  wept. 


The  battle  where  Uncle  made  his  last  charge. 


CIVIL    WAR    IN    MISSOURI  65 

The  news  that  a  battle  was  on  and  our  com 
pany  was  engaged  in  it  spread  rapidly  by  wire 
and  messenger  and  soon  reached  our  own  little 
town,  some  twenty-five  miles  distant. 

There  was  a  flag  of  truce  to  allow  both  sides 
to  bury  their  dead.  I  turned  my  attention  to  a 
boy  who  lay  wounded — a  boy  who  had  for  a 
sweetheart  the  loveliest  and  bravest  girl  I  ever 
knew — a  girl  who  held  us  in  check  by  kind,  sweet 
words  dropped  from  the  point  of  her  magnetic  pen. 

While  I  was  in  a  stooping  posture  over  our 
poor  wounded  comrade  I  heard  the  clatter  of 
hoofs,  and  looking  up  I  saw  a  horse,  white  with 
foam,  under  full  speed,  coming  straight  toward 
us,  and  a  slender  girl,  unattended,  his  rider.  I 
instantly  recognized  her  as  the  sweetheart  of  my 
comrade,  Andy  Wilson.  .  She  rendered  us  much 
valuable  assistance  with  the  wounded,  and  the 
next  day  she  was  furnished  an  escort  to  bear  her 
wounded  charge  to  her  home  at  the  military  post, 
where  she  could  nurse  him  back  to  health. 

The  remainder  of  our  force  took  up  the  trail 
of  the  enemy,  and  we  tracked  them  by  day  and 
by  night  when  the  blanket  of  darkness  was 
pinned  up  by  the  stars  lighting  Old  Glory's  path 
way  through  the  mountain  forest. 


G6  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

On  the  afternoon  of  July  28,  1862,  we  fell  in 
with  Lieut.-Colonel  Odon  Guitar,  near  Moore's 
Mill,  in  command  of  120  men,  10th  Regiment 
Missouri  Militia  Cavalry,  and  306  men,  Merrill's 
Horse,  and  some  of  the  9th  Missouri  Cavalry  and 
133  men  of  the  3d  Iowa  Cavalry,  under  Major 
Cadwell;  also  a  detachment  of  38  men  from  an 
Independent  Company  of  Red  Rovers  under 
Captain  Rice,  and  one  section  of  the  3d  Indiana 
Battery  with  two  six-pound  guns  and  32  men, 
commanded  by  Lieutenant  A.  G.  Armington. 

We  were  informed  by  Lieut.-Colonel  Odon 
Guitar  that  there  would  be  something  doing  very 
soon,  and  to  fall  in  line.  We  had  scarcely  gotten 
into  position  when  a  terrific  fire  was  poured  into 
our  lines  from  the  brush.  Our  men  immediately 
dismounted  and  returned  the  fire.  The  fierce 
firing  from  the  Rebel  ranks  swayed  our  lines,  men 
falling  dead  and  wounded  on  all  sides,  and  one 
could  see  from  the  expression  on  the  faces  of  the 
officers  and  men  that  they  had  the  gravest  fears 
of  the  final  result.  Our  guns  were  quickly  brought 
forward  and  unlimbered,  as  the  brush  was  too 
thick  for  a  cavalry  charge  or  to  permit  the  hand 
ling  of  artillery  with  animals.  Our  guns  belched 
forth  canister  into  the  Rebel  lines,  checking  their 


CIVIL   WAR    IN   MISSOURI  67 

fire  for  an  instant.  Then  we  plainly  heard  orders 
given  by  the  Rebel  commander  to  charge  our 
guns  and  take  them  or  die.  Onward  they  came, 
pouring  volley  after  volley  into  our  ranks,  at  the 
same  time  sending  forth  a  Rebel  yell  that  under 
ordinary  circumstances  would  make  the  stoutest 
heart  quail.  One  of  my  comrades  at  my  side 
asked  me  at  the  time  how  many  Rebels  I  thought 
there  were.  I  replied,  "A  million,"  and  I  spoke 
as  I  felt. 

To  this  charge,  however,  we  shouted  defiance 
and  returned  volley  after  volley  from  our  rifles, 
our  two  guns  decimating  the  ranks  of  the  enemy 
with  grape  and  canister.  Onward  they  came 
with  maddened  frenzy.  We  drove  them  back, 
killing  fifty  or  sixty  and  wounding  one  hundred 
and  fifty,  but  not,  however,  until  they  had  killed 
and  wounded  a  number  of  our  gunners  and  many 
of  the  men  aiding  them.  At  this  juncture  one  of 
the  gunners  fell,  mortally  wounded.  A  comrade 
stooped  to  raise  him  in  his  arms,  when  he 
shouted,  " Stand  by  your  gun  my  brave  boy! 
Save  it  or  die,  for  here  they  come  again.  Give 
them  a  double  charge,  my  boys!"  No  quicker 
said  than  his  order  was  promptly  obeyed.  The 
old  man,  raising  himself  to  his  knees,  snatched 


G3  INCIDENTS    OF    THE 

one  of  our  flags  from  the  ground  that  had  been 
trampled  and  torn  in  the  former  charge,  and 
waving  it  in  the  air,  cheered  the  boys  at  the 
guns.  Men  sprang  forward  from  the  ranks  to  fill 
the  places  of  those  killed  and  wounded  and  to 
help  pull  the  guns  through  the  woods. 

The  enemy  was  right  upon  us  by  this  time  and 
the  wounded  gunner's  action  caused  a  cheer 
around  the  guns  which  went  down  the  line  like  a 
high  wind  wafting  fire  through  a  dry  grain  field. 
Then  the  old  gunner  begged  to  be  carried  to  his 
gun,  and  Lieutenant  A.  G.  Armington,  who  was 
in  charge  of  the  battery  and  who  had  noticed  his 
daring  and  the  work  he  had  done,  gave  an  order 
and  he  was  raised  by  four  stalwart  men  on  an 
improvised  blanket  litter  and  carried  forward. 
"Give  them  a  double  charge!"  the  old  gunner 
again  called,  as  they  raised  him  up.  A  simulta 
neous  shout  went  up  from  the  officers  and  men 
to  charge,  and  the  whole  line  dashed  forward  like 
a  shot  from  a  gun  and  bore  down  on  the  enemy 
in  maddened  fury.  The  gun  that  the  wounded 
man  had  charge  of  was  pulled  through  the  woods 
by  hand  at  such  a  rapid  pace  that  the  other  piece 
was  distanced  in  the  dash.  The  dying  gunner 
was  carried  forward  on  his  litter,  his  life-blood 


CIVIL   WAR  IN    MISSOURI  69 

oozing  through  the  blanket  on  which  he  was 
carried.  At  every  step  he  urged  his  com 
rades  forward ;  he  made  them  fighting  demons. 
They  were  stripped  to  the  waist  and  bareheaded 
and  bent  to  their  duty  with  the  strength  of 
giants,  and  a  cheer  went  up  that  rent  the  air 
above  the  cannon's  roar  for  this  gallant  little 
Indiana  Battery.  The  contagious  cheer  went 
down  the  line  like  an  electric  current  and  we 
drove  the  enemy,  thrice  our  number,  back  like 
chaff  before  the  wind.  The  officers  were  even 
more  daring  than  the  men  and  would  have  led 
their  troops  through  Hell. 

On  reaching  the  brow  of  the  hill  we  discovered 
that  a  portion  of  the  enemy  had  made  a  stand  in 
an  old  tobacco  barn.  "Give  them  a  solid  shot," 
the  old  gunner  again  cried  out;  but  the  shot  fell 
short.  It  was  then  the  old  hero  breathed  his 
last,  and  while  a  few  brave  men  stood  with  bowed 
heads  over  the  lifeless  form  of  the  brave  old  gun 
ner,  Pat  Connolly  (I  do  not  remember  the  com 
pany  to  which  he  belonged,  but  I  think  it  was  the 
Red  Rover),  who  had  had  some  practice  with 
artillery,  sprang  forward  and  elevating  the  muzzle 
of  the  six-pounder,  sent  a  solid  ball  through  the 
top  of  the  building,  tearing  away  portions  of  the 


70  INCIDENTS    OF   THE 

partly  decayed  roof  timbers  and  shakes  of  the 
barn  and  throwing  them  down  on  the  heads  of 
the  enemy,  putting  them  to  flight.  As  he  saw 
the  effect  of  his  shot  he  yelled,  "  Hurrah  for  old 
Ireland!"  This  was  another  signal  for  a  cheer 
and  a  dash;  the  officers  ordered  another  charge 
and  the  boys  rushed  down  the  valley  after  them 
in  hot  pursuit,  firing  charge  upon  charge  after 
the  fleeing  enemy. 

When  the  sun  kissed  the  sky  above  us  good- 
day  and  settled  down  in  the  western  horizon,  and 
night  came  on  and  began  to  shed  her  tears  on 
the  beautiful  foliage  of  the  forest,  our  bugle  called 
us  back  to  care  for  our  dead  and  wounded. 

The  next  morning,  while  the  sun  was  drying 
up  the  tears  night  had  shed  on  the  dimpled 
cheeks  of  the  wild  rosebud,  the  fallen  heroes, 
both  the  blue  and  the  gray,  were  laid  to  rest  near 
the  spot  where  they  made  their  last  gallant 
charge.  Then  we  fell  into  line  and  turned  our 
faces  toward  our  post  quarters  with  a  heavy  heart, 
carrying  our  wounded  with  us. 

We  took  part  in  other  skirmishes  and  battles 
but  none  that  presents  the  pathos  of  those  I  have 
described;  therefore  I  will  pass  to  the  close  of  the 
historic  struggle.  When  those  whom  Divine 


CIVIL   WAR  IN    MISSOURI  71 

Providence  had  saved  gathered  around  their  fire 
sides  with  their  loved  ones  their  thoughts  often 
reverted  to  those  who  had  been  buried  on  the 
field  of  battle. 

We  had  many  reunions  of  those  near-by,  one 
of  which  I  will  long  remember.  It  was  on 
Christmas  Eve  of  1865,  wrhen  the  laughing  full 
moon  shone  brightly  down  on  the  snow-covered 
earth  and  sleighs  slipped  over  the  white-crusted 
ground,  driven  by  horses  prancing  to  the  merry 
jingle  of  the  bells  which  encircled  their  necks, 
and  pulled  up  in  a  swift  trot  in  front  of  a  substan 
tial,  old-fashioned  farmhouse  nestled  among  a 
little  grove  of  native  walnut  and  oak  trees,  where 
we  had  all  been  requested  to  be  present  without 
fail  and  told  we  would  be  informed  on  our 
arrival  the  object  of  this  reunion.  Our  company, 
however,  was  pretty  well  scattered  by  this  time, 
some  of  them  living  many  miles  away,  but  none 
of  the  officers  we  held  most  dear  were  within 
reach  that  we  knew  of. 

Myself  and  a  few  others  being  late  and  fearing 
that  we  would  miss  some  of  the  fun  that  might 
be  going  on,  as  our  gatherings  were  always  very 
jolly,  we  sprang  from  our  sleighs  and  rushed  into 
the  house.  To  our  surprise  the  first  to  grasp  our 


72  INCIDENTS   OF   THE 

hands  was  our  dear  old  brave  captain,  and  the 
next  was  Roberson,  the  cuss  who  gave  us  so 
much  notoriety  over  the  horse  deal  he  figured  in 
in  Mexico.  His  hearty  handshake  carried  me 
back  to  other  evenings  around  our  camp-fire 
where  he  often  entertained  us  with  his  ready  wit 
and  songs.  This  pleasant  surprise  suggested  to 
us  at  once  the  reason  we  were  requested  to  come, 
but  it  transpired  a  little  later  in  the  evening  that 
there  was  another  and  still  greater  surprise  in 
store  for  us.  The  secret  had  been  zealously 
guarded  until  the  final  moment,  when  Andy  Wil 
son,  our  wounded  comrade,  and  the  dear,  brave 
girl  who  took  a  wild  ride  of  twenty-five  miles  on 
horseback  to  the  battle-field  where  old  Uncle 
made  his  last  gallant  charge,  stepped  to  the  cen 
ter  of  the  room  and  were  joined  in  holy  wedlock 
by  our  army  chaplain.  The  bride  looked  as  sweet 
and  womanly  as  she  did  the  day  we  saw  her  on 
the  battle-field  caring  for  the  wounded,  and  we 
all  stood  with  bowed  heads  in  silent  prayer  for  the 
future  of  those  two  young  people  whom  we  all 
loved  and  honored. 


THE  STORY  OF  A  BLOOD-STAINED 
POEM 


In  the  year  1899,  in  the  city  of  San  Francisco, 
when  a  number  of  our  Eastern  regiments  of  Vol 
unteers  returned  from  Manila,  everybody  was  on 
the  qui  vive  to  welcome  them  because  they  were 
j-.ist  as  dear  to  us  as  our  California  men  who  went 
to  the  Philippines. 

The  arrival  of  a  transport  loaded  with  troops 
was  always  heralded  by  the  tooting  of  whistles 
and  firing  of  guns.  By  the  time  the  vessel  had 
reached  the  dock  the  entire  city  had  turned  out 
en  masse  to  honor  the  returning  heroes.  The 
soldiers  marched  through  the  streets  with  pale 
and  haggard  faces,  followed  by  their  ambulances 
loaded  with  the  sick  and  wounded,  their  flag- 
bearer  holding  on  high  the  stars  and  stripes, 
tattered  and  torn  by  coming  in  contact  with  the 
shot  and  shell  from  the  enemy's  lines. 

(73) 


74  THE   STORY   OF   A 

Many  a  pathetic  scene  was  witnessed  on  that 
line  of  march  through  the  city  to  the  Presidio 
grounds,  where  they  were  to  be  encamped. 

Mothers,  sisters  and  sweethearts  who  had  come 
from  the  East  to  meet  those  dear  to  them  waited 
patiently  on  the  sidewalks,  watching  for  some 
familiar  face  as  the  troops  marched  by,  and  now 
and  then  one  could  see  someone  dart  from  the 
sidewalk  into  the  ranks  and  be  clasped  in  the 
arms  of  some  marching  soldier,  as  tender  and  gal 
lant  as  he  was  brave  and  daring  in  the  battles  in 
which  he  had  fought,  and  the  women  marched 
proudly  side  by  side  with  their  heroes.  Some, 
however,  watched  in  vain  and  turned  away  with 
a  sigh  as  the  last  trooper  had  passed  them  by. 
Some  loved  ones  had  been  brought  back  on  the 
same  steamer  cold  in  death,  others  laid  to  rest  on 
the  field  of  battle. 

I  frequently  went  out  to  the  Presidio  to  see 
the  men  and  hear  them  talk  of  the  Filipinos. 
Many  of  the  soldiers  had  boxes  which  they  had 
brought  from  Manila,  filled  with  trinkets  and  war 
mementoes  of  all  kinds.  Some  gave  them  away 
to  friends.  One  day  I  came  across  a  poor  fellow 
who  said  he  had  no  friends  to  give  his  trinkets 
to,  and  as  he  was  sick  and  in  need  of  money  he 
would  like  to  sell  his  box. 


BLOOD-STAINED   POEM  75 

I  did  not  look  through  it,  but  asked  what  he 
would  take  for  it.  He  named  the  price;  I  handed 
him  the  money  and  went  away  with  the  little  box 
under  my  arm. 

I  doubt  if  he  knew  the  contents ;  I  am  sure  I 
did  not.  I  never  asked  his  name,  and  if  I  knew 
his  regiment  or  company  I  have  forgotten  it. 

I  was  called  away  from  the  city  the  next  morn 
ing  and  did  not  return  for  several  weeks,  and  my 
recent  purchase  passed  completely  out  of  my 
mind. 

Upon  my  return  I  decided  to  change  my  place 
of  residence,  when,  in  packing  and  unpacking,  I 
came  across  this  box.  I  remembered  that  I  had 
never  examined  its  contents,  so  I  opened  it  and 
took  out  several  little  trinkets  of  such  small 
value  that  I  laid  them  aside.  When  I  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  box,  I  found  a  torn,  dirty  and 
blood-stained  poem,  written  in  pencil,  its  condi 
tion  plainly  indicating  that  it  had  been  picked  up 
from  some  battle-field,  tossed  into  the  box  and 
forgotten. 

I  doubt  if  the  one  who  had  sold  the  box  knew 
of  its  existence.  It  may  have  been  given  to  him 
by  some  poor  fellow  who  was  never  to  see  his 
native  land  again. 


76  THE    STORY    OF    A 

It  must  have  been  written  under  fire,  as  it  had 
every  appearance  of  being  picked  up  out  of  the 
dirt  and  been  trampled  upon  by  no  one  knows 
how  many  feet. 

I  present  you  with  a  facsimile  of  the  original, 
except  that  it  is  reduced  in  size  to  conform  with 
the  pages  of  this  book. 

Were  these  loving  memories  of  home  stained 
with  the  blood  of  some  gallant  old  Northern 
veteran  of  the  Civil  War,  or  his  son;  or  was  it 
some  daring,  brave  old  veteran  of  the  South,  or 
his  son?  Both  marched  side  by  side  with  Old 
Glory  to  Cuba  and  the  Philippines,  in  answer  to 
our  country's  call  in  the  war  with  Spain,  carrying 
everything  before  them,  adding  to  our  nation's 
wealth  in  commerce  and  history,  and  at  the  same 
time  showing  plainly  that  the  wound  of  the  Civil 
War  was  healed  over.  Will  not  the  people  of  this 
great  nation  remove  the  scar  by  seeing  that  the 
old  white-haired  Southern  veterans  of  '61  to  '65, 
who  helped  to  make  history  then  as  now,  are 
provided  for  in  old  age? 


0       . 
;  fttfv^f  vrn&h  Ifc 


Copy  of  blood-stained  poei 


A  STORY  OF  THE  MINES 


A  few  years  ago  I  got  the  mining  fever.  I 
knew  nothing  of  mining,  or  did  I  know  the  best 
place  to  go  to  become  initiated  in  the  business. 

One  day,  while  in  conversation  with  one  of  my 
business  associates  by  the  name  of  Mr.  Garland, 
he  happened  to  mention  incidentally  that  a  friend 
of  his  was  in  a  mining  camp  on  the  southern 
slope  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains  in  Cali 
fornia. 

"Why!"  I  said,  "that  is  just  what  I  have  been 
looking  for.  I'm  thinking  about  going  mining 
myself.  Who  is  he?" 

He  said  he  was  a  Mr.  West,  and  that  if  I 
would  .like  to  go  into  mining  he'd  write  a  letter 
to  him  and  make  inquiries  for  me,  as  Mr.  West 
was  an  experienced  miner  and  a  jolly  good 
fellow  as  well. 

(77) 


78  A   STORY    OF 

I  was  overjoyed  at  this  piece  of  good  news. 
Mr.  Garland  wrote  to  his  friend  and  in  four  or 
five  days  I  received  a  reply  from  him  to  come  at 
once;  that  he  had  read  Mr.  Garland's  letter  to 
all  the  boys  in  town  Saturday  night,  and  they 
would  be  delighted  to  have  a  newcomer  in  their 
camp.  He  would  expect  me  one  week  from  that 
time.  He  said,  "We  will  have  a  rig  in  waiting 
at  the  railroad  station  to  meet  the  train  arriving 
at  three  o'clock  P.  M.  to  drive  you  over  a  pretty 
rough  road,  but  the  thing  I  shall  send  will  land 
you  in  our  little  camp  by  the  time  all  the  boys 
get  in  and  I'll  introduce  you  to  them.  You  see, 
you  must  be  one  of  them  if  you  are  after  pointers, 
as  I  understand,  and  we  are  willing  to  take  a 
tenderfoot  under  our  wing  and  have  the  honor  of 
breaking,  yes!  b-r-e-a-k-i-n-g  you  in." 

I  arrived  at  the  mountain  station  on  time,  and 
darned  if  the  fellow  who  was  to  drive  me  didn't 
just  walk  right  up  and  spot  me  in  the 
crowd. 

I  walked  about  one  hundred  yards  to  where 
there  were  several  teams  tied,  and  being  a  little 
ahead  of  my  escort  I  went  directly  up  to  a 
splendid  double  team  of  blacks  and  began  to 
deposit  my  luggage. 


THE   MINES  79 

"Hold  on,"  my  driver  shouted,  "that's  not  my 
rig,"  and  then,  pointing  so  unsteadily  as  led  me 
to  believe  he  had  indulged  in  something  stronger 
than  pure  mountain  water,  and  indicating  a 
dilapidated  cart  to  which  was  attached  a  sleepy- 
looking  mule,  said,  "This  is  our  turn-out." 
"Why!"  I  exclaimed,  "this  looks  like  an  old 
blind  mule  that  I  met  in  the  army  in  1862." 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "I  knew  he  was  an  old 
veteran  of  some  kind."  "But,"  I  asked,  "can 
this  old  mule  and  cart  take  us  over  the  rough 
road  Mr.  West  wrote  me  about?" 

"Well,"  he  drawled,  "it  will  surely  get  there  if 
it  doesn't  go  over  the  grade  with  us  or  nothing 
else  happens." 

So  we  mounted  the  cart  and  started  at  once, 
I  somewhat  doubtfully,  it  must  be  confessed,  but 
the  driver  apparently  full  of  confidence  in  him 
self  and  his  antiquated  rig. 

The  road  was  a  typical  mountain  highway,  in 
many  places  cut  into  the  solid  rock  and  barely 
wide  enough  to  admit  the  passage  of  the  cart, 
while  on  the  outside  the  face  of  the  cliffs  fell 
away  in  sheer  precipices  of  unknown  depth.  I 
will  not  deny  that  on  more  than  one  occasion 
after  we  had  safely  passed  such  a  place  I  found 


80  A    STORY    OF 

my  hand  convulsively  clutching  the  side  of  the 
cart  seat,  while  the  perspiration  stood  in  beads 
on  my  face.  The  cheerful  driver  punctuated  the 
journey  with  encouraging  remarks  as  to  the 
probabilities  of  going  over  the  edge  and  dilated 
upon  the  number  of  accidents  which  had  hap 
pened,  and  how  the  remains  looked  when  fished 
out  of  the  depths — that  is,  those  of  the  victims 
who  were  ever  found. 

But  as  Mr.  West  had  predicted,  the  thing  he 
sent  took  me  through  all  right,  and  we  arrived 
at  the  hotel  just  about  dark.  It  was  a  pleasant 
old-fashioned  inn,  with  a  sign  on  the  post  to 
direct  the  weary  to  a  place  of  rest  and  refreshment. 

The  inn  was  managed  by  two  old  people,  man 
and  wife,  types  of  the  sturdy  stock  that  never 
lost  sight  of  a  business  point.  The  good  wife 
attended  to  the  inn  while  the  husband  busied 
himself  in  entertaining  his  guests.  Mr.  West 
was  standing  on  the  porch  and  his  cordial  greeting 
made  me  feel  at  home  at  once. 

He  was  a  large,  well-proportioned  man,  genial 
and  affable,  in  a  good  old  rough  and  ready  way ; 
his  pleasant  countenance  and  a  merry  twinkle  in 
his  eye  indicated  plainly  he  was  everything  my 
friend  Garland  said. 


Mountain  village. 


THE   MINES  81 

After  supper  we  strolled  down  a  narrow  street 
with  business  houses  on  both  sides,  and  at  either 
end  of  which,  dotted  here  and  there,  were  cabins 
and  cosy  little  cottages  belonging  to  the  miners 
and  their  families. 

These  camps  or  little  towns  are  very  picturesque, 
generally  located  near  one  or  two  good  mines, 
and  are  the  basis  of  supplies  for  miners  and 
prospectors  for  a  radius  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
miles  around.  After  walking  the  length  of  the 
short  street  we  dropped  into  a  saloon  and  billiard 
hall,  and  there  I  was  introduced  to  at  least  thirty 
or  forty  miners. 

Glancing  over  the  little  group  I  saw  they  were 
all  sturdy,  strong,  healthy  looking  men  with  good 
honest  faces.  I  was  very  favorably  impressed  by 
the  cordial  greeting  they  gave  me,  their  manners 
indicating  plainly  they  had  more  joy  in  their 
mountain  homes  than  sorrow. 

This  billiard  hall  was  a  very  nice  place  of  its 
kind  and  appeared  to  be  their  favorite  resort. 

Mr.  West  and  myself  were  leaning  against  the 
counter  of  the  bar.  He  had  been  telling  what  he 
thought  was  a  pretty  good  yarn,  and  after  he  had 
finished  I  thought  it  was  only  proper  for  me  to 
tell  one,  so  I  proceeded  and  had  hardly  got 


UNIVER, 


82  A  STORY   OF 

into  the  story  when  I  noticed  a  tall,  mischievous 
looking  fellow  go  behind  the  counter  and  pour 
out  two  large  glasses  of  cold  water,  one  of  which 
he  placed  in  front  of  me  and  the  other  before 
Mr.  West.  I  picked  up  my  glass  and  drank  the 
water,  for  I  was  thirsty.  I  noticed  Mr.  West's 
countenance  change  and  I  asked  him  what  was 
the  matter.  He  whispered  to  me  that  the  boys 
feared  we  would  get  dry  and  talk  ourselves  to 
death.  As  I  was  not  a  drinking  man  I  had  not 
set  up  the  drinks,  as  they  called  it,  so  I  took  the 
hint  and  called  all  hands  up.  They  all  drank, 
took  their  seats  again  and  requested  me  to  go  on 
with  my  story. 

I  had  not  gone  far  when  I  looked  around  to 
note  the  effect  of  my  recital,  and  I  saw  they  were 
all  sitting  cross-legged  and  working  their  feet  up 
and  down.  Not  knowing  exactly  what  to  think 
of  these  strange  actions  I  paused  and  asked, 
"What  on  earth  is  the  matter?'1 

They  replied,  "  Oh,  nothing;  go  on,  it's  only  a 
habit  we  have."  So  I  went  on  telling  my  yarn, 
thinking  they  were  interested,  and  I  soon  caught 
them  again  at  the  same  thing. 

At  this  juncture  my  friend  West,  who  had 
excused  himself  a  few  minutes  previously,  came 


THE   MINES  83 

in  and  I  whispered  to  him,  "  Say,  West,  are  all 
those  fellows  string-halt  that  makes  them  lift  their 
legs  up  and  down?"  "  No,"  he  replied. 

"Then,  what  in  the  name  of  Heaven  is  the 
matter?"  West  cast  his  eyes  over  the  foot-swing 
ing  crowd,  cleared  his  throat  and  said,  "  My  dear 
boy,  that  story  was  told  here  in  1849,  and  they 
get  so  dry  listening  to  those  old  yarns  all  these 
years  that  they  have  to  do  that  to  make  their 
blood  circulate." 

I  set  them  up  again  and  charged  eight  dollars 
and  a  half  to  expenses. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday  and  the  sun  poured 
its  bright  rays  on  the  vine-covered  porch  of  the 
hotel.  The  landlord,  a  drummer  and  myself  were 
seated  engaged  in  casual  conversation.  I  had 
already  been  informed  that  the  landlord  could  and 
would  tell  yarns,  whenever  he  could  get  anybody 
to  listen,  which  were  so  vivid  that  you  could 
almost  imagine  bears  or  snakes  were  near  you. 
On  this  occasion  it  was  a  snake  yarn. 

He  told  the  drummer  that  snakes  always  went 
in  pairs  and  when  he  first  came  there  (not  stating 
how  many  years  ago)  he  actually  killed  a  snake 
on  that  very  spot  eighteen  inches  in  diameter  and 
thirty-six  feet  long,  and  he  had  been  looking  for 


84  A  STORY    OF 

its  mate  ever  since.  The  drummer  moved  his 
chair  uneasily  and  looked  around.  He  was  very 
nervous,  it  evidently  being  his  first  trip  to  the 
mountains.  His  movements  showed  plainly  that 
he  wanted  to  get  away;  but  the  old  man  told  him 
to  hold  on,  that  he  had  only  one  more  story  to 
tell. 

I  will  confess  I  was  somewhat  shaky,  because 
a  snake  of  such  immense  proportions — eighteen 
inches  in  diameter  and  thirty-six  feet  long  was  a 
pretty  good-sized  snake,  Eh? 

I  thought  I'd  go  down  to  the  saloon  where  all 
the  men  were  and  find  out  if  any  of  them  had 
heard  about  old  Young's  snake  yarn.  If  not  I'd 
tell  it.  They  all  claimed  not  to  have  heard  it  so 
I  proceeded  with  the  narration.  My  back  was 
turned  toward  the  door.  I  said,  "Boys,  did  you 
know  that  Mr.  Young  had  killed  a  snake  right 
where  his  house  stands,  thirty-six  inches  in  diam 
eter  and  seventy-two  feet  long,  and  expects  its 
mate  at  any  time?"  In  a  moment  I  was  seized 
from  behind.  I  jumped,  faced  about,  and  there 
stood  Mr.  Young.  He  said,  "  Here,  you,  you  tell 
an  untruth."  I  said,  "Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Young, 
what  about?"  "I  listened  to  you  just  now  lying 
about  me  and  I  won't  stand  it.  The  snake,  I 


THE    MINES  85 

said,  was  eighteen  inches  in  diameter  and  thirty- 
six  feet  long,  and  you  lied  about  it  when  you 
doubled  it.  You  know  the  one  I  killed  was  fairly 
good  size,  any  way." 

When  he  finished  I  said,  "  Mr.  Young,  I  offer 
you  an  apology  for  the  offense,  and  will  try  in 
future  to  quote  more  accurately  in  case  I  think 
it  safe  to  do  so." 

During  the  next  two  or  three  days  I  visited 
some  of  the  mines  near-by,  and  was  particularly 
interested  in  a  drift  mine  just  about  half  a  mile 
east  of  the  town,  where  my  friend,  Mr.  West,  was 
superintendent. 

A  drift  mine  is  a  tunnel  run  into  a  hill  where 
there  have  been  ancient  channels.  The  gravel 
beds  in  these  channels  are  from  ten  to  four  hun 
dred  feet  wide,  and  the  depth  of  gravel  varies 
from  six  inches  to  twenty  feet.  Some  channels 
contain  what  is  called  free  gravel,  from  the  fact 
that  it  is  not  cemented  and  the  gold  is  easily  sep 
arated  from  it. 

Gravel  that  is  cemented  is  usually  crushed  in  a 
stamp  mill  using  from  thirty  to  forty  mesh  screen. 

The  hydraulic  mining  is  very  interesting,  and 
in  this  one  claim  I  examined  they  had  immense 
giants  throwing  streams  of  water  with  terrific 


86  A   STORY    OF 

force  two  or  three  hundred  feet  against  the  gravel 
bank,  washing  it  into  the  bed-rock  sluices. 

As  I  walked  over  some  four  or  five  acres  of 
bed-rock  that  had  been  washed  off  I  saw  about 
forty  or  fifty  men  with  picks  and  shovels  picking 
up  the  soft  bed-rock  and  shoveling  it  into  little 
sluices  running  here  and  there.  In  this  rock 
large  quantities  of  coarse  gold  were  found  every 
day,  which  the  men  would  lay  in  little  piles  here 
and  there  on  flat  rock;  and  I  have  seen  many 
rough  slugs  one  inch  thick  and  two  to  eight 
inches  long,  and  the  totals  from  this  source  alone 
sometimes  amounted  to  thousands  of  dollars  per 
day. 

Every  evening  some  one  would  go  around  with 
a  bucket  to  gather  up  the  accumulations. 

I  think  it  was  the  fourth  day  after  my  arrival 
in  town  that  I  was  informed  that  they  were  in  the 
habit  of  having  chicken  suppers  now  and  then  at 
the  hotel  or  inn,  intended  for  social  affairs,  each 
man  paying  his  share  for  everything  except  the 
chickens.  As  nearly  every  one  there  had  poultry 
of  their  own  they  would  take  turns  in  donating 
them.  One  of  these  suppers  was  to  occur  the 
next  evening.  Early  in  the  morning  Mr.  West 
took  me  out  some  distance  from  the  hotel  and 


THE    MINES  87 

showed  me  a  lot  that  was  fenced  in,  with  a  large 
number  of  chickens  in  it  which  he  said  belonged 
to  him,  remarking  that  as  the  landlord  and  his 
wife  had  some  guests  whom  he  was  going  to 
show  through  his  mines  that  afternoon  he  would 
not  have  time  to  kill  the  fowls,  so  if  I  did  not 
object  it  would  be  conferring  a  great  favor  upon 
him  if  I  would  kill  them  for  him  and  have  them 
ready  to  cook  upon  the  landlady's  return. 

They  started  out  about  two  o'clock  p.  M.  for  the 
mine.  I  proceeded  at  once  to  kill  the  chickens 
and  when  I  had  finished  with  twenty-four  of  the 
finest  fowl  I  ever  saw  I  took  them  over  to  the 
hotel  and  piled  them  up  in  the  kitchen. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  party  returned  from 
the  mine.  As  by  natural  right,  the  landlady's 
first  move  was  to  enter  the  sacred  precincts  of 
the  kitchen.  Horror  of  horrors!  two  dozen  of 
her  best  Leghorns,  cold  in  death,  was  the  sight 
which  met  her  astonished  gaze.  To  say  there 
was  something  doing  right  then  and  there  would 
be  putting  it  very  mildly. 

She  sent  down  town  for  me  to  come  up  at 
once,  and  in  a  fury  of  indignation  wanted  to 
know  what  I  meant  by  killing  her  chickens.  I 
tried  to  explain  matters,  but  my  efforts  were  futile; 


88  A   STORY   OF 

she  would  not  listen,  but  demanded  twenty-four 
dollars  without  delay.  I  paid  it,  charged  it  up  to 
expenses,  and  told  her  to  go  ahead  with  her 
supper  and  say  nothing. 

I  wrote  that  evening  to  my  friend  Mr.  Garland 
in  San  Francisco,  telling  him  how  he  had  dis 
tinguished  himself  in  that  locality  at  my  expense. 
Then  I  communed  with  myself  about  the  unholy 
things  I  could  do  to  my  good  friend  Mr.  West.  I 
concluded  to  do  nothing  just  then  but  to  await  my 
opportunity.  It  came  one  day  about  two  weeks 
after. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  miners  to  congregate 
in  the  village  on  Saturday  afternoons  for  the 
purpose  of  laying  in  a  week's  supplies,  and 
perhaps  also  to  indulge  in  a  little  friendly  gossip 
with  the  neighbors,  and  upon  this  particular 
day  the  main  business  street  was,  as  usual, 
crowded. 

I  was  standing  near  the  center  of  the  street 
talking  to  a  couple  of  ladies  when  a  double  team, 
whose  occupants  were  two  dust-covered  men, 
drove  rapidly  by  and  drew  up  before  a  livery 
stable.  As  it  passed  one  of  the  men  shouted, 
"Hello,  Harvey!  up  to  one  of  your  old  tricks? 
Eh!1' 


THE    MINES 


The  unexpected  salutation  was  somewhat 
embarrassing,  and  after  a  moment  I  excused 
myself  to  the  ladies  and  went  over  to  the  livery 
stable  to  discover  the  identity  of  the  individual 
whose  free  and  easy  manners  had  placed  me  in  a 
slightly  awkward  position.  Naturally  I  began 
wondering  what  else  I  had  run  up  against  in  the 
way  of  practical  jokes. 

As  I  arrived  at  the  stable  door  the  gentlemen 
met  me ;  one  was  a  stranger  and  the  other  a  dear 
old  friend  of  mine,  a  Mr.  Wheaton.  He  was  a 
medium-sized  man,  full  of  ready  wit  and  humor 
and  one  who  never  lost  an  opportunity  for 
innocent  fun  and  amusement,  a  general  favorite 
and  a  good  business  man. 

I  had  not  seen  him  for  several  years.  In  fact, 
had  lost  track  of  him  entirely.  Our  meeting  in 
this  out-of-the-way  place  was  a  surprise  to  both 
of  us.  My  anger  was  at  once  mollified,  as  he  was 
one  of  those  genial  jolly  fellows  who  had  to  have 
his  fun  even  at  the  expense  of  his  friends.  I 
thought  to  myself  I'm  going  to  have  a  pretty 
hard  time  with  Mr.  Wheaton  and  Mr.  West 
together;  but  I  made  up  my  mind  they  would 
not  get  me  into  any  rackets  and  that  I'd  keep 
out  of  their  way.  Then  I  began  to  wonder  if 


90  A   STORY    OF 

Mr.  Wheaton  knew  this  man  West  and  what 
possible  business  could  have  brought  him  to  this 
mining  camp,  and  that  I  must  manage  somehow 
to  even  up  the  old  scores  upon  them  both. 

As  we  walked  along  to  the  hotel  Mr.  Wheaton 
said  he  would  like  to  have  a  private  room.  He 
remarked  that  he  was  glad  to  meet  me  there,  as 
he  did  not  know  anyone  on  the  divide.  (I  said 
to  myself,  "I'm  glad  you  don't.")  When  we 
were  comfortably  settled  in  his  room  he  grew 
confidential  and  asked  me  if  I  was  acquainted 
with  Mr.  West.  I  told  him  I  was.  Then  the 
cause  of  his  visit  came  out.  "Now,  see  here,'' 
he  said,  "I'm  superintendent  of  the  North  Bloom- 
field  Mines  and  we  have  struck  cement  ground. 
I  understand  that  this  man  West  is  superin 
tendent  of  a  mine  that  has  the  latest  machinery 
for  working  cement  gravel,  and  I  know  if  any 
man  can  get  me  in  to  see  that  machinery  you 
can.  At  any  rate  you  may  be  able  to  give  me 
pointers ;  you  know  how  they  are  about  strangers 
coming  around." 

I  replied,  "I  know  Mr.  West;  I  can  give  you 
pointers,  but  I  cannot  for  obvious  reasons  intro 
duce  you.  I  had  a  little  trouble  a  few  days  after 
my  arrival  that  I  could  have  averted  had  I  been 


THE    MINES  91 

as  well  posted  as  I  am  able  to  post  you  at  the 
present  time."  The  possibilities  of  a  great 
scheme,  whereby  I  might  pay  off  my  score  to 
both  these  worthies  came  over  me  and  I  waxed 
eloquent. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Wheaton,  what  I  am  about 
to  say  to  you  must  be  strictly  confidential.  If  it 
gets  out  here  it  will  ruin  me,  as  I  expect  to  stay, 
while  you'll  be  off  in  a  few  days  and  it  can't  affect 
you  in  any  way,  shape  or  manner. 

"  In  the  first  place,  as  you  are  superintendent 
of  the  North  Bloomfield  Mines,  he  has  probably 
heard  of  you  in  some  way  and  if  you  become 
known  to  him  as  Mr.  Wheaton  your  name  will  be 
'mud'  as  far  as  getting  into  the  mine  is  con 
cerned.  It  would  be  better  for  you  to  go  over 
there  under  the  name  of  Smith  or  Jones,  looking 
for  work;  but  what  will  interest  you  most  now, 
Wheaton.,  is  this: 

"  Mr.  West  is  one  of  the  best  miners  in  this 
section,  but  every  month  or  two  he  has  a  little 
crazy  spell.  It  don't  last  long.  Those  who 
know  him  well  can  handle  him  all  right.  I  struck 
him  in  one  of  these  spells  when  I  first  came  here. 
There  was  no  one  to  give  me  pointers,  so  I  had 
trouble. 


92  A   STOkY    OF 

"You  go  over  to  the  mines  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon.  You  will  be  most  likely  to  find 
him  around  the  mill  at  that  time.  If  he  has  a 
great  meerschaum  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  when 
ever  he  takes  it  out  one  corner  of  his  mouth  tries 
to  go  to  his  ear  and  his  eyes  roll  around  in  a 
manner  not  very  inviting,  that's  a  sure  sign  that 
a  spell  is  coming  on.  You  may  possibly  come  in 
contact  with  him  while  in  one  of  these  moods,  as 
it  is  full  moon  and  about  time  for  him  to  have  a 
spell.  But  the  moment  that  he  shows  these 
symptoms  place  yourself  directly  in  front  of  him, 
close  to  him,  and  point  your  forefinger  right 
straight  at  him  and  look  him  right  in  the  eyes, 
holding  your  finger  there  until  his  mouth  goes 
back  to  its  normal  position.  If  the  corner  of  his 
mouth  starts  up  again,  or  as  many  times  as  it 
does,  place  your  finger  right  close  to  his  nose  and 
look  him  straight  into  the  eyes  until  the  spell  is 
broken. 

"  I  have  a  fine  field-glass,  and  by  standing  in 
the  telephone  room  of  the  drug  store  I  can 
plainly  see  everything  going  on  around  the  mine, 
and  should  you  get  into  serious  trouble  you  make 
for  town  and  I  will  have  someone  meet  you  who 
can  handle  him." 


THE   MINES  93 

"  By  Jove ! "  Wheaton  remarked  to  his  friend, 
"that's  a  pretty  risky  thing,  ain't  it?" 

His  friend  replied  that  managing  cases  of  mild 
insanity  in  a  quiet  way  had  been  successful  in 
many  institutions,  and  as  it  was  a  matter  of  great 
importance  to  them  to  obtain  the  information 
which  they  were  seeking  he  was  willing  to  risk  it. 

So,  shortly  before  three  o'clock  that  afternoon 
they  started  for  the  mine,  while  I  posted  myself 
behind  the  field-glass  to  await  developments. 

Some  thirty  feet  from  the  mill,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  tunnel,  a  large  log,  hewn  flat,  had  been  placed 
as  a  foot-bridge  across  a  stream  of  water.  Just  as 
our  friends  had  crossed  on  this  foot-bridge  they 
met  West  face  to  face.  Before  they  had  time  to 
tell  their  names  or  their  business  there,  out  came 
the  meerschaum  pipe,  and  up  went  the  corner  of 
West's  mouth,  while  his  eyes  commenced  to  roll 
around  as  is  sometimes  the  case  with  an  inveter 
ate  smoker.  In  an  instant  two  fingers  were 
placed  almost  against  his  nose,  and  two  pairs  of 
eyes  were  staring  at  him  like  madmen's.  West 
was  a  quick-tempered  man,  and  not  believing 
they  were  after  any  good  he  grabbed  up  a  pick- 
handle  lying  by,  and  advanced  upon  them  in  a 
threatening  manner. 


94  A    STORY    OF 

Believing  that  they  unquestionably  had  a  luna 
tic  to  deal  with,  they  wheeled  around  and  beat  a 
hasty  retreat  over  the  foot-bridge.  Wheaton's 
friend  was  in  the  lead  and  crossed  safely  over, 
but  Wheaton  himself  was  not  so  fortunate.  In 
his  haste  his  foot  slipped  and  he  went  off  into  the 
water,  which  at  that  place  was  about  eight  feet 
deep  and  forty  feet  wide.  West's  hostile  attitude 
vanished  when  he  found  his  enemy  was  likely  to 
drown,  and  fearing  he  would  be  blamed  for  it,  he 
promptly  dropped  his  pick-handle  and  plunged  in 
after  him. 

At  this,  Wheaton's  friend  shouted  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  "Swim  for  your  life,  Wheaton,  he's 
after  you."  West  managed  to  get  the  water  out 
of  his  mouth,  and  sputtered,  "What!  Is  this 
Wheaton  of  North  Bloomfield?" 

They  both  reached  the  bank  about  the  same 
time,  pretty  well  water-logged,  and  standing  in 
their  dripping  garments,  they  proceeded  to  intro 
duce  themselves  to  each  other. 

West  was  the  first  to  speak:  "Are  you  Mr. 
Wheaton,  of  the  North  Bloomfield  Mine?" 

Wheaton  replied  that  he  was.  "Well,  Mr. 
Wheaton,  what  does  this  mean?"  "Well,  I  want 
to  ask  you  what  it  means?"  West  shook  his 


THE   MINES  95 

head  sadly  and  said,  "Well,  Mr.  Wheaton,  do 
you  know  anyone  in  our  camp  by  the  name  of 
Argyle  ?  Perhaps  that  acquaintance  may  account 
for  the  present  catastrophe." 

Mr.  Wheaton's  reply  was,  "Yes,  I'm  sorry  to 
say  I  do."  All  this  time  I  was  observing  the 
whole  proceedings  with  my  glass,  and  as  I  saw 
them  advance  toward  the  office  of  the  mine  I 
rang  up  the  telephone.  I  could  hear  their  laugh 
ter  as  they  opened  the  telephone,  and  Wheaton 
remarked  to  West  that  he  had  better  fix  it  up 
with  me  in  some  way  in  order  to  keep  the  story 
from  leaking  out. 

I  said,  "Hello,  West!  anything  doing  down 
there?"  "Nothing  now,"  he  replied,  "There 
has  been  something  doing;  I  suppose  you  saw 
it  all,  confound  you.  Now,  on  what  conditions 
can  we  surrender  and  have  this  thing  kept  a 
secret?" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,  West;  I  have  twenty-four 
dollars  charged  up  for  chickens  and  eight  dollars 
and  fifty  cents  for  the  drinks,  and  if  you  and 
Wheaton  will  square  that  up  and  give  a  good  lay 
out  to  all  the  miners  within  fifteen  miles  of  here 
I'll  say  nothing  for  two  years,  otherwise  I'll  send 
my  report  to  the  press  to-morrow." 


96  A    STORY    OF 

"  Well,"  Wheaton  said,  "make  out  your  bill  and 
order  refreshments  at  once;  two  years'  secrecy 
goes."  It  is  not  necessary  to  say  that  he  saw  the 
mines. 

I  went  to  work  at  once,  engaged  the  town  hall 
and  a  string  band,  ordered  supper  to  be  prepared 
by  the  two  hotels  of  the  place  for  two  hundred 
guests  and  selected  two  well-known  business 
men  of  the  camp  to  send  out  invitations  for 
the  miners  and  their  wives  to  attend  a  ball  and 
supper  on  the  coming  Saturday  night. 

This  somewhat  elaborate  programme  was  duly 
carried  out  and  I  got  the  credit  for  giving  one 
of  the  most  enjoyable  affairs  they  had  had  there 
for  a  long  time.  During  the  course  of  the 
evening  I  became  acquainted  with  miners  and 
prospectors  who  had  come  in  from  the  surrounding 
country  and  with  whom  I  had  not  before  come 
in  contact. 

Among  the  number  was  an  interesting  indi 
vidual  by  the  name  of  Campbell,  who  gave  me  a 
cordial  invitation  to  visit  his  place,  some  thirty 
miles  distant.  He  gave  me  full  directions  as  to 
the  route,  stating  that  I  would  pass  a  number 
of  mines,  would  go  through  a  beautiful  forest 
of  yellow  and  sugar  pines,  by  a  saw-mill  where 


My  guides  in  the  forest  of  timber. 


THE    MINES  97 

lumber  was  cut  for  the  miners,  and  that  the 
place  next  to  that,  some  five  miles  beyond,  was 
his  place.  "You  can't  miss  it;  nobody  ever  did 
miss  Old  Campbell's  place,  and  I  don't  see  why 
you  should  with  the  directions  I  have  given 
you.  Be  sure  to  come,  for  you  can't  see  much 
around  this  camp  and  I  want  you  to  see  our 
'Queen  of  the  Forest."  This  last  expression 
piqued  my  curiosity  but  I  had  no  time  to  ask  him 
to  explain  and  dismissed  the  subject  with  the 
impression  that  he  must  have  referred  to  the 
fine  body  of  timber  of  which  he  had  previously 
spoken.  I  thanked  him  for  his  invitation  and 
telling  him  that  I  would  surely  come  we  set  the 
date  of  the  proposed  visit  about  thirty  days  hence. 

It  was  now  about  mid-summer.  Some  four  or 
five  days  after  receiving  the  invitation  from  Mr. 
Campbell,  allowing  myself  time  to  pay  numerous 
visits  to  other  friends  and  also  with  the  intention 
of  doing  some  prospecting  on  the  journey,  I  pro 
cured  an  expert,  hired  men  and  tools  and  started 
for  Mr.  Campbell's  place. 

There  were  many  interesting  places  to  be  seen 
on  the  road  and  not  the  least  among  them  were 
some  prosperous  little  mines  of  gravel  and  quartz, 
the  existence  of  which  the  public  were  totally 
ignorant. 


98  A   STORY    OF 

We  derived  great  pleasure  from  visiting  the 
miners  in  their  homes.  For  the  most  part  the 
houses  were  nothing  to  boast  of,  but  they  were 
comfortably  furnished,  and  evidently  the  seat  of 
happiness  and  contentment.  They  were  generally 
ensconced  in  a  perfect  bower  of  flower  gardens, 
and  it  was  a  great  surprise  to  me  to  learn  that 
fruits  and  vegetables  of  the  finest  varieties  were 
raised  at  an  elevation  of  from  three  to  five  thou 
sand  feet  above  sea  level. 

We  stayed  over  night  at  two  or  three  mountain 
homes  by  invitation,  and  all  the  neighbors  came 
in  to  spend  the  evening.  Their  cordial  greetings 
and  their  solicitous  attentions  to  each  other  car 
ried  me  back  to  rural  days  when  people  lived 
more  for  each  other  than  they  do  at  the  present 
time.  The  sturdy  miners  were  there  with  their 
violins,  and  their  brawny  hands  wielded  the  bow 
with  such  dexterity  that  an  audience  of  any  first- 
class  theatre  would  have  encored  them. 

We  prospected  a  number  of  big  quartz  and 
prophyry  ledges  of  low-grade  ore  that  would  yield 
handsome  profits  if  worked  on  a  large  scale  with 
the  latest  methods  of  working  such  ore. 

We  also  crossed  a  number  of  lava-capped 
ridges  that  held  tightly  in  their  grasp  ancient 


THE    MINES  99 

river  channels,  defying  the  man  with  moderate 
means  to  try  to  rob  them  of  their  golden  treasure. 
And  yet  the  miners  would  be  tempted  by  old 
Dame  Nature  throwing  out  on  the  rim  rock  little 
patches  of  gravel  here  and  there  from  the  depths 
of  old  blue  lead  to  lure  them  on,  as  one  could  see 
from  the  numerous  drifts  and  tunnels  that  have 
been  run  into  the  mountains  by  men  with  more 
ambition  than  money.  The  little  pay  streaks  in 
the  rim  gravel  would  play  hide-and-seek  with  the 
prospector  by  giving  up  to  him  now  and  then 
some  of  its  treasure  and  then  darting  back  to  the 
bottom  from  where  it  came,  out  of  his  reach, 
there  to  remain  until  the  miner  would  be  rein 
forced  with  sufficient  capital  to  penetrate  its  depths. 

Many  good  claims  lay  yet  undeveloped  owing 
to  the  fact  that  most  of  the  rich  old  blue  leads 
require  bed-rock  tunnels  run  from  two  to  ten 
thousand  yards  long  to  reach  the  bottom  of  the 
channel  and  have  drainage  for  the  water. 

There  is  an  old  saying  that  "bad  news  travels 
faster  than  good  news";  that  is  the  reason  one 
hears  of  many  mines  which  have  failed  and  ruined 
all  connected  with  them.  Nevertheless  there  are 
hundreds  of  paying  mines  where  the  owners  have 
good  reasons  for  not  telling  what  the  output  is. 


100  A   STORY    OF 

In  passing  through  the  timber  forest  before 
referred  to  I  saw  that  sugir  and  yellow  pine 
largely  predominated  and  that  the  trees  were 
very  large  and  tall.  It  was  a  common  sight  to 
see  a  mighty  trunk  rising  straight  up  into  the  air 
to  a  height  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  before 
the  first  branch  shot  out  from  it. 

We  finally  arrived  at  the  saw-mill,  and  after 
remaining  there  a  day  and  night,  left  early  on  the 
second  morning  and  arrived  at  Campbell's  place 
promptly  at  the  appointed  time. 

I  found  a  good  substantial  loghouse  which 
many  years  before  had  been  constructed  as  a 
store  and  living-house  by  hunters  and  trappers. 
I  was  greeted  with  a  hearty  welcome  and  pro 
ceeded  at  once  to  make  myself  at  home.  I 
noticed  Mr.  Campbell  had  just  finished  dressing 
a  good-sized  deer  and  was  cutting  some  off  for 
supper. 

After  the  evening  meal,  in  which  the  delicious 
venison  played  a  prominent  part,  we  sat  talking 
about  everything  in  general,  and  presently  the 
miners  and  prospectors  began  to  drop  in  by  twos 
and  threes  to  hear  the  news  and  discuss  the 
happenings  of  the  day  until  ten  or  fifteen  of  them 
were  gathered  beneath  the  hospitable  roof. 


Old  Campbell's  place. 


THE    MINES  101 

I  preferred  to  listen  rather  than  talk,  for  I  soon 
observed  that  many  of  them  were  well-informed 
men  who  had  seen  much  of  the  glitter  of  the 
outside  world  in  their  younger  days.  They  were 
interesting  to  me  because  they  were  so  natural; 
they  seemed  to  live  so  near  to  Nature ;  they  were 
ideals  of  real  manhood.  They  asked  of  one 
another  if  they  had  lately  heard  or  seen  anything 
of  this  man  or  that  man,  calling  them  by  name, 
whom  they  knew  to  be  alone  in  the  mountains 
prospecting,  and  it  was  suggested  that  if  noth 
ing  was  heard  of  them  by  the  next  day  they 
must  get  together  and  go  out  and  see  if  anything 
had  happened  to  them.  I  thought  how  few 
there  are  who  have  that  whole-souled  feeling  for 
their  fellowmen. 

I  judge  it  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  even 
ing  when  I  was  startled  by  hearing  a  woman's 
voice  raised  in  song,  accompanied  by  the  gentle 
touch  of  her  finger-tips  upon  the  strings  of  a 
guitar. 

The  effect  upon  the  men  was  electrical.  Con 
versation  ceased  at  once;  their  hats,  which  for 
the  most  part  had  remained  upon  their  heads, 
now  found  new  resting-places,  and  many  rose  to 
their  feet.  The  door  presently  opened  and  a 


102  A    STORY   OF 

beautiful  woman  entered.  After  cordially  greet 
ing  the  old  miners  and  thanking  them  for  their 
many  kindnesses  and  inquiring  after  the  absent 
ones,  she  was  introduced  to  me  as  their  "Forest 
Queen." 

After  she  bade  us  good -night  I  learned  from 
Mr.  Campbell  the  story  of  an  old  abandoned 
mine  and  of  the  girl  who  was  now  known  far  and 
wide  as  the  "  Forest  Queen." 

"  Many  years  ago,"  he  said,  "  I  was  running  a 
kind  of  trading-post  here  at  this  very  place  for 
a  few  miners,  trappers  and  hunters  on  the  creek. 
I  had  some  traps  set  away  up  in  the  mountains, 
some  fifteen  miles  from  here  over  the  ridge. 

"You  see  in  winter  time,  when  there  has  been 
a  good  hard  snow,  we  think  nothing  of  a  fifteen 
or  twenty-mile  run  on  snowshoes.  I  had  not 
been  to  my  traps  for  a  long  time,  on  account  of  a 
heavy  storm,  and  the  weather  being  good  and  the 
snow  settled,  I  provisioned  myself  for  two  or 
three  days  and  started  out.  On  arriving  at  the 
top  of  the  ridge  I  noticed  a  bear  making  down 
the  other  side  toward  a  deep  canyon,  and  I  fol 
lowed,  pursuing  him  very  closely. 

"  The  snow  being  hard,  he  was  able  to  evade 
me  by  dodging  here  and  there  in  the  thick  brush, 


Sawmill. 


,RAFTP% 
OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


THE    MINES  103 

so  I  was  not  able  to  get  a  good  shot  at  him.  You 
see,  it  is  necessary  to  be  sure  of  a  shot  at  a  bear 
when  alone.  I  desired  to  get  close  to  him  and  in 
clear  ground  before  I  fired.  On  we  went,  down 
the  mountain,  swifter  and  swifter,  until  I  began 
to  imagine  myself  John  Gilpin  in  real  earnest. 
That  side  of  the  mountain  was  unexplored,  so  far 
as  any  of  us  knew,  and  I  thought  I  was  miles 
from  any  human  being  on  earth,  when  to  my  sur 
prise,  right  in  front  of  me,  not  fifty  feet  away,  a 
little  blue  smoke  appeared  to  be  rising  right  up 
out  of  the  snow  under  the  edge  of  a  steep  cliff. 

"  I  stopped  in  wonderment  and  said  to  myself, 
'This  is  surely  a  branch  of  Hades.'  Being  alone, 
some  fifty  feet  above  the  place  from  whence  the 
smoke  issued,  I  concluded  to  approach  cautiously. 

"The  idea  occurred  to  me  that  there  might  be 
bandits  and  perhaps,  for  all  I  knew,  there  might 
be  a  cave  full  of  them.  However,  I  approached 
quietly  so  that  I  would  not  be  perceived  until  I 
could  ascertain  what  it  was. 

"After  reconnoitering  for  some  time  I  noticed 
a  pile  of  fresh  gravel  and  it  looked  fine — looked 
as  though  it  was  rich  in  gold,  and  as  I  swung 
around  a  big  boulder  a  sight  met  my  gaze  that  I 
shall  never  forget. 


104  A   STORY    OF 

"  A  little  cabin  was  situated  near  the  mouth  of 
a  tunnel  and  the  passage-way  between  the  two 
had  been  timbered  over,  but  was  now  partly 
buried  under  the  snow,  and  before  the  door  of 
the  house,  on  bended  knees,  a  frail  little  woman 
was  engaged  in  prayer.  I  listened.  She  was 
praying  for  relief  for  one  who  had  gone  out  in  the 
storm  for  assistance,  and  who  had  not  returned; 
she  prayed  for  the  life  of  her  baby  that  it  might 
be  saved  from  starvation.  At  that  I  could  not 
listen  longer.  I  knew  something  must  be  done 
at  once  so  I  approached.  Seeing  me  she  rose  to 
her  feet,  gasped  out  something — what  I  could 
not  understand — and  then  swooned  away. 

"  Upon  entering  the  cabin  I  found  several  men 
prostrated  by  hunger  and  so  exhausted  they  could 
hardly  articulate. 

"I  took  in  the  whole  situation  at  once  and 
went  to  work  with  a  will.  I  rebuilt  the  fire,  took 
off  my  pack  of  provisions,  such  as  I  had,  and 
administered  a  stiff  dose  of  whisky  to  all  the 
unfortunates,  allowing  them  to  partake  of  the 
food  but  sparingly.  After  the  little  woman  had 
been  comfortably  seated  by  the  fire  she  soon 
revived  sufficiently  to  tell  her  story. 


THE    MINES  105 

"She  said  her  husband,  brothers,  baby  and  her 
self  had  come  across  the  mountains  late  in  the 
Fall.  Heavy  storms  had  overtaken  them  and  they 
concluded  to  camp  where  they  were,  as  it  seemed 
a  promising  spot  to  tunnel  in  and  see  if  they 
could  strike  gold.  They  were  running  short  of 
provisions  so  one  of  the  brothers  started  out  in 
the  storm  for  help.  Then  she  cautiously  inquired, 
'Did  he  send  you?' 

"  I  replied,  '  I  have  not  seen  him/  Then  she 
exclaimed,  '  He  has  lost  his  way  in  the  storm  and 
we  are  starving!  Just  before  you  arrived  my 
poor  dear  husband  brought  out  the  last  barrow  of 
dirt  and  I  saw  gold  in  it,  so  we  can  pay  you,  sir, 
for  assistance.  Can  you  help  us?' 

"'The  men  have  not  eaten  for  several  days  so 
as  to  save  food  for  baby  and  me.  Poor  little 
thing,  she  is  so  quiet  now  I  fear  the  worst,  and 
only  a  few  days  ago  she  was  lying  here  cooing 
while  I  was  out  there  with  the  poor  men  doing 
what  I  could  to  encourage  them  to  work,  for  I 
felt  they  would  strike  it.  They  are  so  brave  and 
so  kind,  sir.' 

"One  poor  fellow  who  was  more  dead  than 
alive  said,  'We  will  trust  you!  We  know  you 
will  help  us.'  I  proposed  to  them  to  leave  what 


106  A   STORY    OF 

provisions  I  had  and  to  take  the  little  one  home 
with  me  (it  could  not  have  been  more  than  fifteen 
miles  away),  to  gather  a  few  men  as  a  rescue 
party  with  whose  assistance  the  entire  family 
could  be  conveyed  to  my  camp. 

"The  mother  at  first  demurred  at  parting  with 
her  babe,  but  the  men  finally  overcame  her 
objections,  and  when  I  looked  at  her  pinched 
and  grief-stricken  face  I  mentally  resolved  that 
if  the  power  were  mine  to  do  so,  help  should  come 
before  another  sunrise.  Then  I  bundled  the 
little  one  upon  my  back,  after  having  seen  that 
she  was  warmly  wrapped  up,  and  started  upon 
my  journey.  The  mother  watched  us  until  we 
had  passed  out  of  sight ;  I  turned  once  and  called 
out,  'Keep  up  your  heart;  I  will  be  back  by 
morning  at  the  very  latest/  She  appeared  to 
brighten  up  at  that. 

"It  was  four  o'clock  p.  M.  when  the  race  began 
— a  race  for  life  or  death.  As  I  zigzagged  the 
mountains  on  my  snowshoes  to  reach  the  top,  the 
sad  sight  I  had  seen  in  the  cabin  appeared  before 
me  every  now  and  then,  and  I  offered  up  a  prayer 
to  Heaven  as  I  had  not  done  in  years  that  God 
would  give  me  strength  to  withstand  the  ordeal 
before  me. 


THE   MINES  107 

"  I  was  younger  then  than  now,  and  the  plead 
ings  of  the  unfortunates  touched  every  chord  in 
my  heart.  The  unselfish  devotion  of  the  little 
woman  who  had  stood  by  to  encourage  those 
broken-hearted  men,  until  she  fell  exhausted  from 
hunger,  with  no  thought  of  herself,  spurred  me 
on  to  save  the  babe  she  loved  and  to  give  succor 
to  the  others  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  In  passing  the  trappers  and  prospectors  I  gave 
the  alarm  as  I  ran,  telling  them  to  follow  me  to 
my  place  in  haste. 

"The  baby  was  turned  over  to  my  wife's  care, 
and  having  gathered  a  few  men  and  everything 
necessary,  the  rescue  party  started  soon  after  dark. 
We  arrived  about  midnight,  and  before  another 
day  all  the  occupants  of  the  cabin  had  been 
transferred  to  a  place  of  comfort  and  safety. 
But  the  deprivation  proved  too  great  for  the 
little  mother  and  she  survived  but  a  short  time. 
The  father  lingered  many  months,  then  he,  too, 
died.  The  body  of  the  poor  fellow  who  had 
started  out  to  obtain  relief  was  discovered  the 
next  Spring  when  the  snow  had  melted.  The 
baby,  however,  grew  and  throve. 

"The  mine  proved  to  be  one  of  the  richest  that 
had  been  discovered  here  in  many  years,  and  as 


108  A   STORY    OF 

they  happened  to  strike  the  end  of  a  channel 
running  south  a  beautiful  little  town  sprang  up. 
A  very  contented  lot  of  miners  lived  there,  but  it 
has  been  abandoned  now  for  years.  The  pay  all 
went  out  in  one  night. 

"Well,  you  see,  I  saved  the  child,  and  she  has 
been  our  sunshine  from  that  day  to  this.  She 
has  always  been  an  angel  of  mercy  and  she 
earned  the  name  of  'Forest  Queen'  from  the  old 
miners  and  has  never  know  any  other. 

"In  the  prosperous  days  of  the  mine  she 
received  a  fair  education.  Her  every  want  was 
supplied  by  the  old  miners,  all  of  whom  claimed 
an  interest  in  her — and  why  not?  Nothing 
could  prevent  her  from  going  to  the  bedside  of  a 
sick  and  crippled  neighbor,  and  her  lovable  nature 
endeared  her  to  all. 

"  She  and  a  little  fair-haired  boy  of  one  of  the 
miners  were  the  only  children  in  camp,  and  they 
roamed  the  mountains  hand  in  hand  from  child 
hood  to  womanhood  and  manhood." 

"  Many  asked  her  hand  in  marriage,  but  she 
would  always  tell  them  to  get  the  consent  of  her 
fathers  of  the  forest,  meaning  us  old  miners  who 
loved  her  as  our  own.  You  can  imagine  how  hard 
it  would  be  for  a  newcomer  to  get  that  consent. 


THE   MINES  109 

Finally,  her  ever-faithful  playmate  asked  her 
to  be  his  wife,  and  the  young  couple  received 
our  sanction  and  blessing.  They  were  married, 
and  their  home  is  over  there  across  the  creek. 
They  both  are  just  as  dear  to  us  as  ever,  and  she 
is  still  our  'Forest  Queen'." 

"  I  think  the  old  abandoned  mine  would  inter 
est  you,"  continued  Mr.  Campbell,  "and  we  will 
start  up  there  to-morrow  morning,  if  you  like.  I 
promised  to  show  you  something  if  you  came.'* 

The  next  morning,  well  provisioned,  we  started 
out.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly  from  a  clear, 
blue  sky,  and  the  gentle  murmur  of  the  zephyrs 
through  the  beautiful  foliage  of  the  large  pines 
was  in  itself  inspiring.  About  dark  we  approached 
the  little  old  desolate  village  where  at  one  time 
lights  had  twinkled  from  many  cabin  windows; 
now  not  a  single  lamp  shed  its  solitary  ray  upon 
the  passer-by.  Upon  entering  its  narrow  streets, 
with  the  houses  leaning  or  fallen  from  age  and 
neglect,  it  impressed  one  as  being  a  city  of  the 
dead. 

Mr.  Campbell  rode  up  near  a  big  tree  at  the 
mouth  of  a  tunnel,  and  dismounting  said,  "We 
will  camp  here."  "  Why  not  take  one  of  those 
old  houses?"  I  asked. 


110  A    STORY   OF 

"What!  we  camp  in  one  of  those  cabins? 
Never!  That  place  (pointing  to  the  little  village) 
is  as  sacred  to  us  old  miners  as  your  own  bury- 
ing-ground  where  your  loved  ones  are  laid  to 
rest.  I  will  show  you  the  cabins  to-morrow,  not 
now.  We'll  go  into  the  tunnel  to-night  if  you 
like." 

"How  far?"  I  asked.  "A  mile  and  a  half,"  he 
replied.  I  shuddered  at  that,  but  being  aware 
that  he  was  an  old  miner  I  knew  he  would  not  go 
into  unnecessary  danger. 

So  after  supper  we  lighted  our  candles  and 
started  into  the  tunnel.  As  we  did  so  he 
remarked,  "  Many  a  day  I  have  worked  in  this 
mine,  and  I  often  come  to  see  it,  for  the  days  I 
worked  here  when  it  was  in  full  blast  were  the 
happiest  of  my  life." 

We  picked  our  way  over  timbers  and  piles  of 
debris  where  the  walls  had  caved  in,  with 
torrents  of  water  running  everywhere.  As  we 
neared  the  end  the  roar  of  the  water,  constantly 
growing  louder,  became  deafening,  and  before  I 
had  time  to  inquire  the  cause  of  the  noise  we 
came  to  where  there  was  a  cavity  cut  out  of  the 
solid  cement  some  fifty  feet  wide  and  about  as 
high,  and  there  were  two  huge  thirty-six-foot 


Old  abandoned  mine. 


OF 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 

4dL/FORt^fl 


THE   MINES  111 

water-wheels  now  badly  fallen  to  decay,  while 
two  or  three  hundred  inches  of  water  were  pour 
ing  out  of  the  cement  above  them  as  though  in 
noisy  protestation  of  their  inability  to  revolve. 

The  sound  of  the  water  so  far  underground 
made  a  certain  feeling  of  dread  come  over  me, 
and  yet  the  charm  of  the  place  was  indescribable. 

We  were  then  about  a  thousand  feet  from  the 
top  of  the  mountain.  That  channel  had  paid 
from  where  it  was  first  struck  for  one  and  a 
half  miles  running  south,  when  one  night,  all  of  a 
sudden,  they  ran  into  solid  cement.  Word  v/rnt 
to  the  little  village  from  the  night  shift  that  the 
channel  was  lost.  It  sent  a  gloom  over  the  once 
happy  camp,  but  they  would  not  be  daunted  by 
that,  so  they  ran  four  hundred  feet  into  the 
cement  and  sank  down  sixty  feet,  where  they 
found  a  channel  much  larger  running  at  right 
angles  which  had  cut  the  former  one  in  two. 
This  was  much  richer,  consisting  of  an  altogether 
different  kind  of  gravel  from  the  one  they  had  lost. 

Once  more  their  hopes  were  at  a  high  pitch 
but  they  had  still  a  great  obstacle  to  contend 
with,  and  that  was  the  water  in  the  lower 
channel,  which  they  fully  realized  might  be  diffi 
cult  to  overcome. 


112  A   STORY   OF 

So  they  conceived  the  idea  of  putting  in  a  big 
water-wheel  and  running  a  tunnel  above  in  the 
cement  for  water  to  propel  it.  They  succeeded 
in  getting  plenty  of  water  in  the  cement,  but  as 
they  sank  to  the  bed-rock  in  the  new  channel  and 
began  to  breast  out,  the  water  increased  and  then 
they  placed  another  water-wheel  beside  the  first. 
This  long  struggle  had  disheartened  many;  some 
sickened  and  died  from  exposure  in  fighting  the 
water  and  others  left  their  homes  and  everything 
in  them,  as  it  was  easier  to  get  things  in  than  out 
of  the  camp.  Finally  the  power  of  the  two 
immense  pumps  driven  by  the  water-wheels  was 
insufficient  to  overcome  the  water,  and  as  the 
sad  tidings  reached  the  village  from  the  workers 
it  sent  such  a  gloom  over  the  miners  that  every 
thing  they  were  doing  at  the  time  of  receiving 
the  news  stopped  like  a  clock  with  a  broken 
mainspring. 

In  our  wanderings  through  the  tunnel  and 
numerous  drifts  Mr.  Campbell  would  point  out 
this  and  that  place  where  it  had  been  rich  and 
where  this  one  and  that  one  of  his  friends  had 
worked,  giving  their  names. 

The  next  morning  he  beckoned  me  to  follow 
and  we  started  to  go  thorugh  the  deserted  village, 
some  four  hundred  yards  distant. 


THE    MINES  113 

The  old  man  led  the  way  with  bowed  head  to  a 
little  old  cabin,  leaning  with  age,  and  as  he  entered 
he  took  off  his  hat  and  remarked,  "You  can  look 
around,  but  you  must  not  touch  anything."  The 
cabin  was  as  the  owner  left  it,  except  for  age 
and  dust.  The  bed  he  had  slept  on;  a  few  half- 
burned  sticks  in  the  fire-place;  the  old  "cupboard 
on  the  wall,  with  pans  and  dishes;  a  pair  of 
musty  boots  peeping  out  from  under  the  bed;  an 
old  hat  hanging  on  a  nail  upon  the  wall ;  a 
little  rude  table,  with  pen  and  ink,  some  opened 
and  some  unopened  letters  lying  there.  I  ventured 
to  speak,  but  my  friend  raised  his  hand.  I  knew 
he  was  deeply  affected,  and  we  walked  away. 
When  we  were  outside  he  said,  "The  miner 
who  lived  in  this  cabin,  poor  fellow,  was  so 
brave  and  good.  He  was  drowned  in  the  mine 
the  night  we  had  to  abandon  it.  He  fought  the 
water  to  the  last.  He  did  not  care,  he  said, 
for  himself,  but  there  were  so  many  depending 
upon  the  success  of  the  mine.  He  was  buried  up 
there  on  the  mountain  side/1  pointing  to  a  little 
graveyard. 

He  next  led  me  to  a  row  of  once  prosperous 
business  houses,  built  from  round  logs,  with 
porches  in  front.  The  first  one  we  entered  was 


114  A   STORY   OF 

a  store  and  post-office.  The  dust-covered  shelves 
around  the  walls  here  and  there  still  held  remnants 
of  wares  undisturbed  for  many  years;  a  desk 
with  a  day-book  and  ledger,  which  I  was  allowed 
to  look  through,  upon  a  promise  of  careful 
handling.  There  were  unopened  letters  in  the 
post-office,  many  of  them  being  addressed  to  those 
who  were  resting  in  the  little  graveyard  on  the 
mountain  side.  He  next  took  me  into  an 
adjoining  billiard  hall  and  saloon.  There  were 
the  bar  and  fixtures,  the  billiard-table  in  the 
center  of  the  hall,  with  the  cues  and  balls  lying 
on  the  table,  and  but  for  the  dust  and  decayed 
condition  of  the  building  you  would  think  a  game 
had  just  been  finished. 

Mr.  Campbell  walked  over  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  table  to  where  I  stood,  and  pointing  to  a 
cue,  stated  that  he  had  played  the  last  game  and 
with  that  cue  he  had  made  the  last  shot,  when 
the  news  came  that  the  mine  was  flooded  and  the 
men  all  driven  out  and  one  of  their  number 
drowned,  while  hundreds  of  inches  of  water  were 
following  them  out  of  the  tunnel.  "  You  may 
know,  sir,  from  what  you  have  seen  here,  that 
everything  stopped  short  in  this  place  on  receiv 
ing  those  tidings." 


THE    MINES  115 

After  showing  me  many  other  relics  of  the 
camp  we  walked  up  the  mountain  side  to  the  vil 
lage  of  the  dead. 

I  sat  down  on  a  stump  in  the  graveyard  of  the 
old  abandoned  mine  and  looked  down  on  the 
little  deserted  village  below  in  that  almost  inac 
cessible  spot.  It  looked  both  romantic  and 
pathetic  to  me,  and  what  still  added  to  the  pathos, 
the  wind  moaned  a  gentle  lullaby  through  the  tall 
pines  on  the  mountain  tops  above  me.  The 
crudely  cut  names  on  the  rough  rock  headstones 
of  the  graves  before  me  were  the  same  I  had 
seen  on  the  uncalled-for  and  unopened  letters  in 
the  village  post-office. 


MY   ERST   SWEETHEART   AND 
SCENES  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD 


In  the  month  of  April,  1853,  near  a  beautiful 
little  river  known  as  the  Miami,  running  through 
a  fertile  portion  of  the  grand  old  State  of  Ohio, 
two  sturdy  sons  of  toil  settled,  with  their  families, 
to  build  homes  for  themselves  and  loved  ones. 

This  particular  section  of  the  country  at  that 
time  was  as  the  master  hand  of  Nature  had  left 
it — with  immense  groves  of  virgin  timber,  of 
walnut,  hickory,  oak,  ash  and  sugar  maple. 

Along  the  clear  running  streams  tributary  to 
the  Miami  were  patches  here  and  there  barren  of 
timber,  which  looked  as  though  they  had  been 
ordained  for  the  grain  fields  of  future  generations. 

These  pioneers  had  but  one  yoke  of  oxen  each, 
a  wagon,  a  plow  and  very  few  of  the  most  com 
mon  farming  utensils.  Under  similar  conditions 

(116) 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  H7 

the  task  of  subduing  the  wilderness  would  to  us 
at  this  day  seem  impossible,  yet  our  ancestors  did 
not  hesitate  at  its  magnitude. 

Spring  was  fast  disappearing  before  our  set 
tlers  had  selected  their  land,  and  it  became 
necessary  to  form  some  plan  of  co-operation  as 
there  was  much  to  be  accomplished  before  the 
next  Winter  should  come  on;  and  woe  betide  the 
unfortunate  found  unprepared  for  its  rigors. 

It  was  decided  to  call  together  the  two  families 
(which  consisted  of  my  father,  mother  and  myself, 
our  new  friend,  Mr.  Summers,  and  his  wife  and 
their  little  fair-haired,  blue-eyed  daughter,  about 
the  same  age  as  myself)  to  arrange  as  to  the 
duties  to  be  performed  by  each,  in  order  to  bring 
about  the  object  so  greatly  desired. 

First,  it  was  decided  to  live  in  the  wagons 
during  Summer,  to  camp  close  to  the  creek  on 
account  of  the  wood  and  water  and  to  select  the 
places  barren  of  timber  for  the  fields. 

Second,  Mrs.  Summers  would  do  the  cooking 
for  all;  my  mother's  part  was  to  put  in  a  little 
early  garden  and  tend  the  chickens.  The  heaviest 
portion  of  the  work,  of  course,  fell  to  my  father 
and  Mr.  Summers,  who  were  to  plow  and  plant 
the  grain  and  then  fence  in  the  fields  with  rails, 
split  from  the  trees. 


118  MY    FIRST   SWEETHEART   AND 

After  all  the  above  details  had  been  thoroughly 
discussed  and  satisfactorily  settled  a  silence  came 
upon  the  little  group  for  a  few  moments,  when  a 
sweet  childish  voice  rang  out  on  the  still  night 
air,  "Papa,  dear,  you  have  forgotten  to  give  me 
something  to  do;  won't  it  be  my  home,  too? 
Can't  I  help  make  it?" 

Mr.  Summers  took  his  little  girl  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  her,  exclaiming,  "  Dear  little  one, 
what  can  you  do?" 

"Oh!  I  can  do  lots;  on  warm  days  you  must 
have  good  cool  water  to  drink,  and  I  heard  you 
say  there  was  none  up  at  the  field,  so  I  can  bring 
you  water  every  day." 

The  little  girl  charmed  me  by  her  kind  offer 
and  sweet  manners,  but  somehow  at  the  time  I 
would  rather  she  had  not  made  such  a  proposi 
tion,  for  I  had  from  that  moment  a  kind  of 
foreboding  that  my  father  would  intimate  that  he 
had  something  of  a  like  nature  for  me  to  do. 

As  it  was  growing  late  I  suddenly  got  awfully 
sleepy  and  did  not  hear. 

The  little  girl  ventured  to  ask  my  father  if  I 
was  a  good  boy.  He  replied  that  I  was  the  best 
boy  he  had.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "but  you  have 
only  one." 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  119 

I  awakened  a  little  later,  as  my  father  had  a 
knack  of  rousing  me  that  never  failed. 

So  ended  the  first  night  under  the  new  regime. 

The  next  morning  we  awoke  to  find  a  clear 
blue  sky  above  us,  with  the  warm  bright  rays 
of  the  sun  peeping  through  the  fast-budding 
branches  and  the  birds  flitting  from  tree  to  tree, 
singing  their  sweet  songs  as  Nature  had  taught 
them. 

Never  shall  I  forget  that  dimple-faced  child 
watching  and  pointing  out  the  different  kinds  of 
birds  and  commenting  on  their  qualities  as  song 
sters,  catching  now  and  then  a  note  and  warbling 
with  them  in  their  matin  lay. 

We  knew  but  little  of  the  Summers  family  at 
this  time;  we  had  met  them  journeying  on  the 
road  with  the  same  object  in  view  as  our  own  and 
the  community  of  interests  drew  us  together  at 
once. 

As  we  found  them  in  every  way  pleasant  and 
agreeable  our  friendship  grew  stronger  day  by 
day. 

Mr.  Summers  was  a  man  of  about  the  same 
age  as  my  father — thirty-five  years.  He  was  a 
short,  well-set  man  with  a  pleasing  face  and 
manners  and  open,  honest  countenance;  he  wore 


120  MY    FIRST   SWEETHEART   AND 

his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  was  brimful 
of  ready  wit  and  humor;  he  could  crack  a  joke 
and  take  one  with  equal  readiness. 

Mrs.  Summers  was  short  of  stature,  with  a 
sweet,  kind,  motherly  face,  modest  and  retiring, 
and  rather  inclined  to  dry  wit. 

My  father  was  tall,  well  proportioned,  stately 
and  courteous  in  manner,  and  would  enjoy  a  joke 
the  next  day  after  its  occurrence — that  is,  if  he 
saw  the  point. 

My  mother  was  of  medium  size  and  graceful 
in  form  and  manners;  her  hair  had  just  the  least 
tinge  of  the  golden  hue,  and  her  disposition  was 
as  sunny  as  her  face. 

Our  covered  wagons  stood  close  together, 
about  two  hundred  feet  from  the  stream,  on  a 
beautiful  little  flat  where  there  was  no  under 
brush,  but  which  was  covered  with  large  sugar 
maples.  The  short,  green,  carpet-like  grass  and 
the  towering  trees  surrounding  it  made  it  alto 
gether  a  lovely  spot,  and  under  these  trees  Sarah 
and  I  had  our  swing  and  teeter-board  and  there 
we  spent  the  hours  allotted  to  us  for  play,  while 
the  beautiful  wild  birds  of  the  forest  entertained 
us  with  their  songs. 


The  first  camp  in  our  new  settlement. 


v\b"RA 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 

^LIFOR^i 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  121 

During  the  months  of  April  and  May  we 
plowed,  planted  and  gardened.  By  the  end  of 
May  we  had  seeded  fifteen  acres  of  corn,  ten 
acres  of  wheat  and  much  garden-stuff.  By  the 
end  of  September  we  had  a  five-rail  fence  around 
the  twenty-five  acres  planted,  and  the  corn  laid 
by,  as  they  call  it — that  is,  corn  after  it  comes 
up  is  usually  plowed  four  times  and  then  left  to 
grow  and  ripen. 

Everything  had  run  smoothly  with  me  up  to 
this  time,  when  unfortunately  I  violated  some  rule 
of  the  camp,  or  did  something  else  not  to  my 
father's  liking,  and  received  a  thrashing  for  the 
infraction.  It  almost  broke  my  heart  for  Sarah 
to  see  me  licked,  and  the  whipping  was  laid  on 
all  the  harder  because  I  would  not  squeal  while 
she  was  looking  on.  My  father  thought  I  had 
some  protection  under  my  clothing,  as  had  hap 
pened  once  before  upon  a  similar  occasion,  and 
he  continued  to  punish  me  until  my  little  playmate 
begged  him  to  desist. 

But  my  troubles  did  not  end  there.  Up  to  this 
time  I  had  had  lots  of  fun  with  Mr.  Summers, 
whom  I  admired  immensely,  but  he  now  began 
to  tease  me  before  Sarah,  in  a  sly  way  at  different 
times  about  my  being  licked,  so  that  I  fully 


122  MY    FIRST    SWEETHEART   AND 

resolved  to  get  even  with  him  if  possible.  I  could 
not  sass  him,  nor  could  I  stop  him,  for  he  teased 
everybody,  more  or  less,  with  his  jokes  and 
pranks.  After  much  cogitation  I  concluded  the 
only  way  to  do  would  be  to  stir  up  trouble 
between  him  and  my  father,  thinking  that  my 
father  would  deal  out  to  him  some  of  the  same 
medicine  which  he  had  so  lavishly  bestowed  on  me. 
What  to  do  or  how  to  do  it  I  did  not  know,  but  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  watch  my  chance;  and  it 
came. 

I  noticed  that  on  a  number  of  occasions  after 
my  father  had  gone  to  bed  in  the  wagon  he  would 
put  his  feet  out  under  the  curtains  at  the  end,  and 
just  as  sure  as  Mr.  Summers  would  discover  his 
feet  protruding,  which  was  often  the  case,  he 
would  take  a  twig  and  tickle  my  father's  feet. 
Naturally  this  would  awaken  my  paternal  ances 
tor  and  he  would  call  out,  "You  Summers!  if  you 
don't  stop  your  pranks  I  will  play  one  on  you." 
Then  Mr.  Summers  would  chuckle  at  the  idea  of 
my  father  playing  a  prank  on  him.  So  one  night 
I  thought  if  I  could  carry  out  my  plan  without 
being  detected  I  would  get  even  with  my  tormen 
tor.  I'll  just  get  some  charcoal  and  mash  it  up, 
make  a  solution  and  paint  my  father's  feet  black 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  123 

and  he'll  think  Mr.  Summers  did  it  sure,  and  he'll 
just  annihilate  him. 

I  mixed  my  solution  and  waited  for  the  oppor 
tunity. 

It  came  one  warm  moonlight  night.  My 
father  had  worked  very  hard  that  day  and 
naturally  slept  very  soundly.  He  managed  to 
work  his  feet  further  out  the  wagon  than  usual, 
so  I  took  my  charcoal  solution  and  some  feathers 
from  a  brush  and,  creeping  softly  up,  proceeded 
to  paint  his  feet.  I  finished  my  job  in  good 
shape,  unperceived,  as  I  thought,  by  anybody, 
and  went  to  bed  in  great  glee. 

The  following  morning  was  beautiful  and 
bright  and  Mr.  Summers  arose  earlier  than  usual. 
I  heard  him  approach  the  wagon;  then  there  was 
an  interval  of  silence,  during  which  I  suppose  he 
was  examining  the  strange  objects  protruding 
from  the  cover.  Then  arose  peal  after  peal  of 
laughter  which  quickly  awakened  the  entire  camp. 

I  lay  in  my  bed  in  the  wagon,  one  moment 
trembling  with  fear,  the  next  ejaculating  to 
myself,  "Old  fellow,  your  time  has  come! " 

My  father,  hearing  this  unusual  racket,  knew 
that  something  out  of  the  common  had  happened 
and  was  not  averse  to  having  his  share  of  the  fun 
if  there  was  any  on  hand. 


124  MY   FIRST    SWEETHEART   AND 

Upon  springing  from  the  wagon  he  discovered 
the  occasion  of  Mr.  Summers'  hilarity.  That 
gentleman  was  lying  on  the  ground  gasping  for 
breath. 

My  father,  being  quick-tempered,  approached 
the  supposed  malefactor  with  uplifted  hand. 
Mr.  Summers  begged  him  to  desist  until  he  felt 
better.  Father  finally  thought  better  of  his  rash 
move  and  walked  toward  the  creek.  As  he  did 
so  Mr.  Summers  hollered  after  him  that  he  knew 
it  was  a  rather  bad  case,  but  he  did  not  think  it 
had  gone  so  far  as  that.  I  ventured  to  peep  from 
under  the  blankets  in  time  to  see  my  father  turn 
and  shake  his  finger  at  Mr.  Summers.  "Mind 
you,  Summers,  this  is  only  borrowed ;  I  will  pay 
you  back  if  I  live."  It  is  not  necessary  for  me 
to  say  that  I  felt  easier,  never  dreaming  for  a 
moment  that  that  smooth  man  Summers  had  his 
head  sticking  out  from  under  his  wagon-cover 
and  was  watching  me  all  the  time  I  was  perform 
ing  my  hazardous  task ;  nor  was  I  apprised  of  his 
knowledge  of  the  affair  for  a  year  and  a  half 
afterward,  and  the  predicament  I  was  placed  in 
was  embarrassing  in  the  extreme. 

During  October  Mr.  Summers  and  my  father 
devoted  all  their  time  to  cutti  ng  and  hewing  logs 
to  build  their  houses. 


SCENES   OF   MY   CHILDHOOD  125 

In  those  days  there  was  no  difference  of 
opinion  as  to  what  constituted  a  home,  nor  to 
the  duties  to  be  performed  by  each  and  every 
member  of  the  family,  for  they  knew  equal  toil 
and  equal  responsibility  brought  equal  happiness. 

I  will  endeavor  to  describe  to  you  those  old 
homes  and  their  charms. 

The  houses  in  those  days  were  usually  con 
structed  upon  the  following  plan :  There  were  two 
rooms,  each  twenty  by  thirty  feet,  with  a  passage 
way  about  twelve  feet  wide  between  them ;  both 
rooms  and  passage-way  were  covered  by  one 
roof.  This  passage-way  was  called  an  entry. 

The  boards  for  the  floor  were  split  from  white 
ash  trees,  called  punchings,  laid  down  and  adzed 
off  on  top  after  being  placed  in  their  proper 
position.  The  logs  for  the  walls  were  hewn  flat 
on  .both  sides ;  the  cracks  chinked  and  daubed. 
Anyone  mechanically  inclined  could  build  a 
comfortable  house  and  make  a  very  nice  job  of  it 
in  this  way. 

There  was  a  porch,  running  the  full  length  of 
the  house,  twelve  feet  wide. 

All  houses  were  built  facing  the  rising  sun. 
Large  fire-places  were  constructed  out  of  rock,  at 
each  end  of  the  building,  when  fire-proof  rock 


126  MY    FIRST    SWEETHEART   AND 

could  be  found;  otherwise  they  were  made  from 
what  we  called  split  sticks  plastered  thoroughly 
inside  and  out  with  clay.  They  would  usually 
accommodate  sticks  of  wood  five  or  six  feet  long, 
and  were  sufficiently  deep  to  take  in  a  back  log 
two  feet  in  diameter. 

The  roof  and  ceilings  were  of  shaved  shingles, 
made  from  oak  or  walnut  trees. 

About  the  time  that  my  father  and  Mr.  Sum 
mers  had  each  sufficient  material  cut  for  a  house 
of  the  kind  above  mentioned,  emigrants  had 
commenced  to  pour  in  from  different  sections  of 
the  country.  It  was  customary  in  all  new  settle 
ments  to  give  a  man  a  day  to  raise  his  house  or 
barn  as  the  case  might  be,  and  any  work  done  for 
the  owner  of  the  house  after  that  would  be  paid 
for  in  corn,  fodder  or  potatoes.  So,  as  our  crop 
was  about  ripened  and  would  yield  more  than 
sufficient  for  our  requirements,  we  got  up  big 
dinners  and  invited  the  emigrants  to  the  house- 
raising,  and  kept  all  hands  busy  at  work  until 
Mr.  Summers'  and  my  father's  houses  were 
entirely  completed. 

As  the  newcomers  had  little  or  no  money,  and 
were  in  need  of  fodder  for  their  stock  and  corn 
and  wheat  for  breadstuff,  my  father  and  Mr. 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  127 

Summers  decided  to  build  themselves  barns  from 
hewed  logs,  and  by  the  new  year  each  was  in  his 
new  house  and  the  barns  were  completed. 

The  latter  were  built  in  a  pen-like  fashion, 
about  forty  feet  square,  the  logs  laid  close 
together,  and  each  pen  about  forty  feet  apart. 
The  whole  thing  was  roofed  over,  leaving 
between  the  two  buildings  a  space  about  forty 
feet  with  a  shed  on  each  side  the  full  length  of 
the  building,  sixteen  feet  wide  and  one  hundred 
and  twenty  feet  long.  This  space  between  the 
two  buildings  was  used  as  a  threshing  floor. 
The  first  threshing  was  done  with  what  they  call 
flails,  made  from  a  green  hickory  stick  three 
inches  in  diameter  at  the  butt  and  six  or  seven 
feet  long;  about  three  feet  from  the  butt  it  was 
mashed  with  an  ax  for  a  space  of  about  twelve 
inches,  to  make  it  limber.  The  barn  floor  was  of 
hard  packed  clay.  Sheaves  of  wheat  would  be 
cut  open  and  spread  around  in  a  ring  about  thirty 
feet  in  diameter;  these  wide  projecting  roofs 
protected  the  threshing  floor  from  storms.  Each 
neighbor  would  have  what  they  called  threshing 
bees;  all  hands  would  go  with  their  flails  and 
flay  wheat.  The  flailing  custom  was  soon 
abolished  and  horses  used  instead.  Two  or 


128  MY    FIRST    SWEETHEART    AND 

three  riders  and  as  many  horses  as  they  could 
lead  tramped  round  and  round  on  the  grain;  one 
man  stood  in  the  center  to  keep  the  horses  on 
the  grain  and  to  turn  it  over  until  finished. 

My  father  and  Mr.  Summers  located  their  houses 
some  three  hundred  yards  apart.  The  township 
line  ran  between  them  and  it  was  hoped  that  at 
no  distant  day  the  country  highway  would  be 
surveyed  and  laid  out  near-by,  which  would 
materially  add  to  the  value  of  the  land. 

At  those  house  and  barn-raisings  they  usually 
took  two  hours  for  dinner  at  noon,  and  the  time 
not  devoted  to  eating  was  occupied  in  resting  and 
story-telling.  I  remember  one  story  more  partic 
ularly  than  any  other,  relative  to  a  dog  that  our 
friend  Mr.  Summers  owned.  The  conversation 
upon  this  particular  day  drifted  upon  coon- 
hunting. 

Our  friend  Summers  remarked,  "  Now,  gentle 
men,  when  you  come  to  talk  about  coon-hunting 
and  your  coon  dogs,  I  say  I  have  a  dog  that  can 
kill  more  coons  in  a  shorter  space  of  time  than 
any  other  two  dogs  in  this  settlement." 

Mrs.  Summers  interposed,  "Why,  Mr.  Sum 
mers,  that  dog  is  too  lazy  to  kill  coons.  He  is 
too  lazy  to  stand  up  to  eat;  he  lies  down  when  he 


The  first  homes  in  the  settlement. 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  129 

eats.  He  is  even  too  lazy  to  bark;  I  don't  think 
I've  heard  that  dog  bark  since  you  owned  him. 
I've  even  tried  to  give  him  away.  I  presume  the 
reason  I  failed  to  do  so  was  that  my  proffered 
gift  happened  to  be  always  to  some  one  who  was 
a  good  judge  of  a  dog." 

Summers  replied  that  he  was  the  largest  and 
finest  looking  dog  in  the  settlement.  Mrs.  Sum 
mers  said  that  was  no  criterion  to  go  by,  for  there 
are  many  beautiful  things  that  are  worthless. 
But  Mr  Summers  was  stubborn  and  maintained 
his  point.  "  Now,  gentlemen,  in  order  to  prove 
to  you  that  Mrs.  Summers'  slander  on  my  dog  is 
not  true  we'll  just  go  out  coon-hunting  some  fine 
night,  and  I'll  guarantee  after  that  coon  hunt 
Mrs.  Summers  will  have  no  trouble  about  dispos 
ing  of  my  beautiful  dog,  if  she  still  desires  to 
do  so." 

Not  very  long  after  that,  one  afternoon  about 
three  o'clock,  some  of  the  boys  reported  that  they 
had  found  two  big  hollow  trees  plumb  full  of 
coons;  that  they  were  guarding  the  trees  so  that 
the  coons  could  not  get  away  until  the  neighbors 
were  told,  so  as  to  share  in  the  sport  of  catching 
them,  and  all  who  could  spare  the  time  were  soon 
on  hand  with  their  dogs  and  axes. 


130  MY    FIRST    SWEETHEART    AND 

Mr.  Summers,  with  his  big  dog,  was  the  main 
feature  of  the  occasion.  They  discovered  in  one 
tree  a  small  young  coon,  and  decided  they  would 
hold  Mr.  Summers'  dog  until  the  tree  with  the 
young  coon  in  it  had  fallen,  allowing  the  other 
dogs  to  finish  him.  Having  seen  one  very  large 
coon  in  the  second  tree,  they  decided  that  was 
the  coon  which  Mr  Summers'  famous  dog  should 
be  permitted  to  annihilate. 

When  the  first  tree  was  felled,  and  while  the 
dog  which  had  to  fight  the  young  coon  was 
making  his  advances,  Summers'  dog  reared  and 
foamed  and  howled  to  be  released  from  his 
master's  grasp  to  sail  into  the  affray.  It  was  not 
long,  however,  before  the  young  coon  was  no 
more. 

Now  all  eyes  centered  upon  the  other  tree 
with  the  big  old  coon  in  it,  which  was  now  just 
tottering  and  ready  to  fall.  When  it  struck  the 
ground  and  the  dust  caused  by  the  fall  had  cleared 
away  everyone  stood  anxiously  watching  for  the 
big  old  coon's  appearance,  lest  he  should  slip  out 
and  steal  away. 

Summers  was  more  anxious  than  all  the  rest 
(for  he  wanted  Mrs.  Summers  to  see  his  dog's 
coon-killing  qualities);  this  was  a  new  country  and 


SCENES   OF   MY   CHILDHOOD  131 

coons  were  a  great  pest  in  the  grain  fields  and 
chicken  roosts.  A  dog  that  had  the  ability  to 
kill  them  by  the  drove  was  not  to  be  sneered  at. 
The  old  coon  finally  made  his  appearance, 
deliberately  walked  out  from  the  hollow  of  the 
tree,  stretched  himself  up  and  took  a  good  look 
at  each  member  of  the  crowd  as  unconcerned  as 
though  there  was  not  a  coon-killer  in  the  place. 
At  the  sight  of  that  coon  Summers'  dog  sat  down 
and  whined.  Summers  let  go  of  him  and  tried  to 
urge  him  on.  Mrs.  Summers,  who  had  followed 
her  husband  to  see  the  performance  of  his  canine 
prodigy  was  convulsed  with  laughter.  By  this 
time  the  coon  had  spied  that  big  dog  near  the 
stump  of  the  tree;  instead  of  beating  a  hasty 
retreat,  as  everybody  expected,  he  showed  a  fine 
set  of  teeth  about  an  inch  long  and  started  down 
the  tree  on  a  canter  in  the  direction  of  the  dog, 
and  when  within  ten  feet  he  sprang  upon  the 
dog's  back  and  fastened  his  teeth  in  his  neck. 
With  a  series  of  yelps  that  might  have  been  heard 
a  mile  away  the  dog  took  to  the  woods  toward 
his  home,  with  the  coon  still  clinging  to  him. 
This  took  Summers  so  completely  by  surprise 
that  for  once  in  his  life  his  ready  wit  failed  him. 
When  he  recovered  he  politely  informed  his 


182  MY    FIRST    SWEETHEART    AND 

neighbors  that  his  dog  always  took  his  coons 
home  to  kill  them.  However,  Mr.  Summers  lost 
no  time  when  he  got  home  to  write  to  the  friend 
who  had  given  him  the  dog  and  had  recommended 
him  as  one  of  the  finest  coon  dogs  on  earth,  that 
the  dog  had  ruined  his  reputation  in  the  neigh 
borhood. 

Summers  soon  received  a  reply  from  his  friend 
stating  that  he  was  very  sorry  that  the  dog  had 
not  turned  out  to  be  a  good  coon  dog.  For  he 
had  been  taught  from  childhood  that  the  Almighty 
created  everything  for  some  purpose,  and  as  he 
had  tried  this  dog  for  everything  under  the 
heavens  except  coon-hunting  and  found  him 
worthless  upon  every  other  occasion,  he  thought, 
of  course,  he  would  be  a  good  coon  dog. 

Many  a  time  Summers  related  this,  which  he 
considered  was  a  good  joke  on  his  friend. 

As  Autumn  drew  near,  the  hickory  nuts  and 
walnuts  ripened  and  fell  to  the  ground  and  Sarah 
and  I  busied  ourselves  gathering  them  for  the 
Winter.  By  the  time  the  snow  fell  we  had  quite 
a  stock  on  hand. 

Mr.  Summers  and  my  father  had  made  a 
number  of  baskets  out  of  splits  from  white  oak 
trees,  and  we  alternately  had  a  corn  shelling,  first 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  133 

at  Mr.  Summers'  and  then  at  our  house.  The 
corn  would  be  carried  into  the  large  kitchen  in 
big  baskets  and  be  shelled  by  my  father  and 
Mr.  Summers  before  the  big  log  fires,  while 
Mrs.  Summers  and  my  mother  busied  themselves 
with  their  knitting.  Sarah  and  myself  in  the 
meantime  picked  out  the  bright  red  ears  of 
corn  and  cracked  nuts  with  a  hammer  upon  the 
hearth. 

The  next  day,  weather  permitting,  the  sacks  of 
corn  would  be  loaded  upon  the  wagon  either  by 
my  father  or  Mr.  Summers,  who  took  turns  in 
going  to  the  mill  to  get  the  corn  ground  into 
breadstuff. 

So  the  many  long  winter  evenings  in  the  new 
settlement  were  passed  in  shelling  corn,  making 
baskets  and  cracking  nuts,  while  certain  hours  of 
the  evening  were  allotted  to  Sarah  and  myself  for 
studying. 

The  next  Summer  my  father  and  Mr.  Summers 
planted  about  two  or  three  acres  of  orchards  in  a 
variety  of  fruits.  We  had  the  lady-blush  in  those 
days. 

A  year  and  a  half  from  the  time  of  our  arrival 
in  the  new  settlement  about  twenty  families  had 
established  their  homes  as  near  to  us  as  the  lines 


134  MY    FIRST    SWEETHEART    AND 

of  the  land  permitted.  Additions  were  built  to 
these  homes  from  time  to  time  as  necessity 
required,  making  little  nooks  here  and  there  with 
porches;  and  the  old-fashioned  morning  glories, 
planted  and  trained  by  our  mothers  will  long  be 
remembered.  Then  there  began  to  be  some  talk 
of  the  need  of  a  schoolhouse.  All  this  time  my 
father  had  not  mentioned  the  cause  of  Mr.  Sum 
mers'  hilarity  that  bright  Summer  morning  by  the 
creek  and  I  began  to  wonder  if  he  had  forgotten 
it;  neither  did  Mr.  Summers  ever  allude  to  it. 
Finally  a  meeting  of  the  neighbors  was  called  at 
our  house  for  the  purpose  of  arranging  the  details 
for  building  a  settlement  schoolhouse. 

There  was  a  big  fire  burning  brightly  in  the 
fire-place  and  benches  were  placed  to  seat  all  who 
came.  The  heads  of  all  the  families  in  the 
community  were  present. 

This  first  meeting  in  the  new  settlement  was 
of  great  importance  in  the  minds  of  some  of  those 
present;  their  grave  faces,  caused  by  the  anxiety 
of  the  final  result,  amused  me,  and,  boy-like,  I 
proceeded  to  have  a  little  fun. 

I  took  a  pin  and  bent  it  like  a  horseshoe,  then 
turned  the  point  up  so  that  when  it  was  laid  down 
on  a  bench  the  point  would  stand  upright. 


SCENES    OF    MY   CHILDHOOD  135 

A  rude  table  was  placed  at  one  end  of  the  room 
for  the  chairman's  use,  and  my  father  ordered  me 
to  place  a  short  bench  behind  it,  and  in  so  doing 
I  laid  my  horseshoe  pin  down  on  the  bench  unob 
served  by  any  one. 

Mr  Patrick  Moon,  a  dignified  old  gentleman, 
was  then  selected  to  govern  the  meeting.  He 
took  his  seat,  but  to  my  surprise  he  made  no 
move  nor  outcry  as  I  expected  he  would  when 
coming  in  contact  with  the  pin-point;  in  some 
way  he  sat  down  a  little  to  one  side  of  it.  The 
meeting  was  called  to  order  and  the  business  pro 
ceeded  with. 

It  was  not  very  long  before  there  was  a  heated 
debate  as  to  the  location  of  the  schoolhouse,  and 
two  or  three  men  jumped  to  their  feet  at  once,  all 
trying  to  talk  at  the  same  time. 

The  chairman  rapped  for  order  and  moved 
restlessly  on  his  bench,  and  in  one  of  his  moves 
my  fullest  expectations  were  realized ;  he  sprang 
to  his  feet  with  his  eyes  protruding,  and  struck 
the  top  of  the  table  a  terrible  blow  with  his  cane, 
bringing  those  excited  in  debate  to  their  senses. 
I  knew  what  had  happened;  they  didn't;  and  I 
almost  fell  off  my  bench  laughing.  My  father 
gave  me  one  of  those  cold,  stern  looks  which 


-o,T 

UNIWPDCIT-V 


136  MY    FIRST    SWEETHEART    AND 

meant  business,  and  asked  me  what  I  meant. 
I  replied,  I  wasn't  laughing;  my  face  just 
slipped." 

The  chairman  suggested  to  my  father  he  had 
better  take  the  splinters  off  the  top  of  his  benches 
before  another  gathering  of  the  kind  was  held. 
I  drew  a  sigh  of  relief  when  he  uttered  those 
words.  There  was  no  serious  damage  done  and 
the  pin  was  not  discovered,  but  Mr.  Summers 
gave  me  a  look  which  plainly  indicated  he  under 
stood  what  had  caused  the  chairman's  boisterous 
demonstration.  Order  was  soon  restored,  how 
ever,  and  they  proceeded  with  the  business  before 
them  without  further  interruption. 

After  considering  the  matter  thoroughly,  suffi 
cient  labor  was  donated  to  build  the  schoolhouse, 
and  it  was  understood  the  work  should  commence 
at  once. 

After  the  details  had  all  been  settled  and  the 
chairman  was  in  the  act  of  announcing  an 
adjournment,  my  father  arose  and  addressed  the 
assemblage  in  his  usual  stately  manner: 

"Mr.  Chairman  and  Gentlemen:  Inasmuch  as 
Mr.  Summers  and  myself  were  the  first  settlers 
in  this  beautiful  valley  —  we  having  enjoyed  two 
years  of  successful  harvest — and  having  received 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  137 

your  valuable  and  appreciated  services  in  assist 
ing  us  to  erect  our  pleasant  homes,  I  feel  it  now 
may  work  some  hardship  upon  you  to  grant  the 
request  that  I  am  about  to  make.  I  will  state  it 
is  my  desire  to  have  the  inside  walls  of  our  new 
schoolhouse  hewed  and  planed  to  a  perfect 
smoothness  and  artistic  designs  painted  thereon 
to  make  it  attractive  to  our  little  ones.  Should 
this  request  be  granted,  I  will  meet  that  extra 
expense  myself.  I  will  pay  for  the  labor  for 
planing  and  adzing  the  walls  to  a  perfect  smooth 
ness,  ready  for  the  painter,  giving  three  bushels 
of  corn  a  day.  I  will  further  ask,  knowing  as  I 
do  my  friend  Mr.  Summers'  artistic  ability  and 
his  readiness  with  the  brush,  that  he  be  employed 
to  paint  on  those  walls  such  designs  as  in  his 
judgment  would  be  most  appropriate,  and  for  this 
I  am  willing  to  allow  him  ten  bushels  of  corn 
a  day  for  each  and  every  day  he  is  occupied  in 
this  work,  providing  he  is  not  over  fifty  days 
doing  it. 

"It  is  also  my  wish,  upon  the  completion  of 
this  schoolhouse,  that  the  keys  be  turned  over  to 
the  artist,  my  friend  Mr.  Summers.  Now, 
gentlemen,  I  think  I  have  shown  my  confidence 
in  Mr.  Summers'  ability  to  execute  this  work  to 


138  MY    FIRST   SWEETHEART   AND 

the  entire  satisfaction  of  the  community  by  offer 
ing  to  foot  the  bills." 

My  father's  object  was  to  embarrass  Mr.  Sum 
mers  before  the  settlement,  aiming,  of  course,  to 
play  even  on  him  for  the  little  artistic  work 
supposed  to  have  been  done  by  Mr.  Summers 
upon  my  father's  feet,  but  little  did  he  dream  that 
he  was  dealing  with  a  man  of  no  mean  artistic 
ability,  who  had  in  his  youth  studied  under  the 
masters  of  the  old  world. 

It  is  needless  to  say  my  father's  request  was 
granted  without  a  single  protest,  not  even  from 
Mr.  Summers  himself. 

The  next  day  after  the  meeting  the  committee 
went  out  in  the  woods  to  select  and  measure  off 
the  ground.  They  chose  two  acres  on  a  beau 
tiful  little  plateau  on  a  section  corner. 

The  land  was  covered  with  a  fine  grove  of 
trees;  a  portion  of  it  was  donated  by  Mr.  Sum 
mers,  my  father,  Mr.  Moon,  chairman  of  the 
committee,  and  a  Mr.  Shylock  (by  name  but  not 
by  nature). 

Now  every  available  man  and  boy  stood  with 
ax  and  saw  in  hand  awaiting  the  decision  of  the 
schoolhouse  committee,  and  as  soon  as  it  was 
rendered  the  two  acres  were  blazed  out  and  the 
entire  force  was  intelligently  put  to  work. 


SCENES    OF   MY   CHILDHOOD  139 

Some  felled  the  trees;  some  hewed  and  others 
dragged  them  with  their  cattle  to  the  building 
site;  several  with  skids  and  yoke  of  oxen  com 
menced  to  raise  the  building,  and  by  the  end  of 
the  following  week  the  schoolhouse  was  ready  for 
the  artist. 

The  proposition  of  painting  the  walls  had 
wrought  the  settlement  up  to  a  high  state  of 
excitement  and  many  were  the  speculations 
indulged  in  as  to  the  subjects  of  the  designs. 

Mr.  Summers,  in  the  meantime,  had  arranged 
to  take  the  next  grist  to  the  mill,  some  forty 
miles  away,  and  while  there  he  quietly  secured 
and  brought  home  unobserved  all  the  necessary 
materials  for  the  work.  It  was  understood  that 
everybody  was  to  be  excluded  from  the  school- 
house  until  the  artist  had  finished. 

When  his  task  was  completed  the  colony  would 
be  notified  and  a  grand  social  gathering  would 
take  place  to  dedicate  the  building.  The  walls 
were  to  be  hung  with  sheeting  behind  which  no 
curious  eye  might  penetrate  until  the  hour  when 
the  paintings  should  be  dramatically  unveiled. 

I  began  to  feel  some  foreboding  lest,  before 
that  painting  was  finished  some  misfortune  should 
befall  me,  in  the  way  of  the  cat  getting  out  of  the 


140  MY    FIRST   SWEETHEART  AND 

bag.  I  was  somewhat  older  than  when  I  first 
met  Mr.  Summers  and  began  to  study  that 
individual  very  carefully. 

I  considered  my  father  a  very  clever  man 
although  a  little  slow  of  perception. 

As  regards  Mr.  Summers'  nationality  I  can't 
say,  but  from  his  ready  wit  and  humor  I  imagine 
he  must  have  been  of  the  good  old  Irish  stock. 
He  was  so  genial  and  clever  and  good  in  all 
emergencies;  he  was  judge  and  jury,  and  had 
endeared  himself  to  everybody  in  the  colony. 
He  appeared  to  like  me  and  always  invited  me  to 
his  home,  and  would  let  Sarah  come  over  to  our 
house.  In  that  way  we  were  almost  constant 
companions. 

One  evening  after  supper  I  was  about  to  step 
upon  their  porch  when  I  heard  her  singing  "  My 
Old  Kentucky  Home,"  while  her  father  accom 
panied  her  on  the  violin.  I  had  often  heard  her 
humming  little  snatches  of  some  of  the  old-time 
melodies  during  our  hours  of  play,  but  the  way 
she  sang  that  time-honored  piece  was  a  revela 
tion  to  me: 

The  sun  shines  bright  in  the  old  Kentucky  home, 

'Tis  Summer,  the  darkies  are  gay, 
The  corn  tops'  ripe  and  the  meadow's  in  the  bloom 
While  the  birds  make  music  all  the  day. 


SCENES    OF   MY  CHILDHOOD  141 

The  young  folks  roll  on  the  little  cabin  floor, 

All  merry,  all  happy  and  bright, 
By  and  by  hard  times  come  a  knocking  at  the  door 

Then  my  old  Kentucky  home,  good-night. 

There  was  a  silence;  I  rapped  on  the  door. 
The  response  came  in  Mr.  Summers'  hearty  tones, 
"Come  in,  my  little  victim."  I  could  not  even 
guess  what  he  meant,  but  I  knew  there  was  some 
practical  joke  in  store  for  me.  The  only  thing  I 
could  do  was  to  await  results.  I  entered  and 
found  a  large  log  fire  burning  brightly,  and  its 
light  was  caught  up  and  reflected  by  the  polished 
white  ash  punching  floor. 

Mr.  Summers  was  sitting  on  one  side  of  the 
fire-place  with  his  violin  in  his  hand,  Mrs.  Sum 
mers  opposite  running  the  spinning-wheel;  Sarah 
was  standing  erect  in  front  of  the  fire-place,  ready 
to  take  the  next  note.  Mr.  Summers,  however, 
preferred  to  tease  rather  than  play  on  his  violin. 
After  sitting  for  some  time  I  ventured  to  ask  him 
what  he  meant  by  calling  me  "his  little  victim." 
He  jocularly  said,  "Oh!  I've  made  you  lots  of 
trouble."  Not  being  entirely  satisfied  with  his 
answer  I  said,  "As  it  is  about  time,  Mr.  Sum 
mers,  you  were  painting  the  inside  of  the  school- 
house  I  would  like  to  know  something  about  the 
designs  you  are  going  to  paint." 


142  MY    FIRST    SWEETHEART    AND 

He  replied,  "Oh!  it  will  be  interesting;  it  will 
interest  you;  in  fact  the  whole  settlement  will 
probably  enjoy  it  very  much  more  than  myself." 
I  saw  a  look  of  dejection  upon  his  face  and  felt 
sorry  for  him. 

Everybody  had  now  stored  their  crops  and 
Christmas  and  New  Year  were  close  at  hand. 

Mr.  Summers  had  locked  himself  up  in  the 
new  schoolhouse  and  was  busily  engaged  in  com 
pleting  the  task  he  had  undertaken. 

The  men  folks  of  the  settlement  were  busily 
preparing  wood  and  large  back-logs,  as  was 
customary  in  those  days,  for  their  Christmas  fires, 
while  the  women  were  actively  engaged  in  mak 
ing  pumpkin  pies  and  crullers. 

They  would  visit  alternately  from  house  to 
house  during  the  Christmas  and  New  Year  week, 
which  was  devoted  to  social  amusements — the 
latter  consisting  largely  of  candy-pullings,  dancing 
popping  corn,  and  the  old-time  kissing  games. 

So  the  festivities  of  1854  passed  and  the  New 
Year  dawned,  and  then  the  settlement  became 
anxious  to  know  the  result  of  the  backwoodsman's 
painting  on  the  inside  of  the  schoolhouse. 

They  began  to  realize  by  this  time  that  there 
was  something  between  Mr.  Summers  and  my 


SCENES    OF   MY   CHILDHOOD  143 

father  which  had  brought  this  about.  However, 
they  knew  there  was  no  appearance  of  ill-feeling 
and  everything  pointed  to  fun  over  the  matter  at 
somebody's  expense.  Just  what  the  fun  would 
be,  of  course,  could  only  be  determined  on  the 
night  when  the  schoolhouse  would  be  thrown 
open  to  the  inspection  of  the  settlement. 

On  the  28th  day  of  January,  1855,  in  the 
following  brief  and  formal  invitation,  Mr.  Sum 
mers  notified  the  residents  that  his  task  was 
accomplished : 

"Mr. You  and  family  are  requested  to  be 

present   at  the    settlement    schoolhouse    on   the 
evening  of  January  29th,  at  eight  p.  M.  sharp,  at 
the  formal  opening  of  our  new  schoolhouse  and 
the  unveiling  of  the  designs  painted  therein, 
"Very  truly  yours, 

"Summers." 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Summers  had  filled  the 
large  eight-foot  fire-place  in  the  schoolhouse  with 
hickory  wood,  ready  to  be  ignited  with  coals 
brought  from  a  near-by  house.  The  schoolhouse 
was  provided  with  a  large  number  of  candles  and 
when  all  were  lighted  and  the  big  log  fire  in  full 
blast,  with  its  crackling  hickory  wood,  it  was 
altogether  very  attractive  in  appearance. 


144  MY    FIRST   SWEETHEART  AND 

Mr.  Summers  had  been  complaining  for  several 
days  to  his  wife  of  not  feeling  very  well.  She 
believed  in  his  sincerity,  of  course,  and  was  quite 
alarmed  about  it.  But  he  told  her  and  Sarah  that 
he  would  feel  better  after  awhile,  and  for  them  to 
go  and  participate  in  the  evening's  pleasure  and 
to  give  Mr.  Moon  a  letter  that  he  would  send. 
The  sly  rogue  was  purposely  indisposed  upon 
this  particular  occasion.  The  note  addressed  to 
Mr.  Moon  was  as  follows: 

"Please  open  letter  marked  number  one  first 
and  read  the  same  to  the  audience  before  unveil 
ing  the  right-hand  side." 

The  people  had  all  gathered  promptly  at  the 
appointed  time,  and  the  fire  and  candles  were 
burning  brightly.  Sheets  were  suspended  from 
the  ceiling  half  way  to  the  floor  on  both  sides  of 
the  room,  covering  the  work,  indicating  plainly 
there  was  a  surprise  in  store  for  someone. 

Mr.  Moon  arose  and  called  the  house  to  order. 
Then,  adjusting  his  horn  spectacles,  he  read  the 
contents  of  letter  number  one  as  requested  by 
Mr.  Summers.  It  read: 

"Dear  Neighbors  and  Friends: — I  have  com 
pleted  my  task  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  The 
delineation  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  wall 


Settlement  schoolhouse. 


SCENES    OF    MY   CHILDHOOD  145 

represents,  as  you  will  see,  our  first  settlement 
schoolhouse,  in  a  beautiful  forest  of  trees  and  the 
children  at  play  around  it. 

"  I  trust  it  will  please  you,  and  I  regret  very 
much  that  I  cannot  be  with  you  to-night,  owing 
to  illness. 

"Yours  truly, 

"  Summers." 

So  Mr.  Moon  ordered  the  unveiling  of  the 
walls  on  the  right-hand  side.  As  the  sheet  was 
removed  the  audience  gazed,  spellbound.  Mrs. 
Summers  nearly  wept  with  delight,  this  being  the 
first  intimation  she  had  ever  received  that  her 
husband  was  an  artist.  My  father  was  so  sur 
prised  that  he  stood  dumbfounded,  the  work  was 
so  beautiful  and  artistic. 

Mr.  Summers  was  eulogized  and  lauded  to  the 
skies;  cheer  after  cheer  went  up  for  this  clever, 
noble-hearted  man.  When  my  father  could  get 
his  breath  he  paid  a  tribute  to  his  neighbor  that 
was  unexcelled  in  those  days. 

The  unveiling  of  the  first  picture  with  its  beau 
tiful  workmanship  had  completely  overshadowed 
for  the  time  being  the  unveiling  of  the  other  side. 

Mr.  Moon  called  them  to  order  and  announced 
that  he  would  read  letter  number  two. 


146  MY   FIRST   SWEETHEART    AND 

You  could  have  heard  a  hazel-nut  drop  on  the 
floor,  so  intense  was  the  silence  which  prevailed 
as  he  read: 

" Friends  and  Neighbors: — The  left-hand  side 
represents  the  two  first  settlers  in  camp  in  this 
beautiful  little  valley,  and  a  clever  ruse  by  a  boy 
to  get  me  thrashed  by  his  father,  for  teasing 
him.  Please  spare  the  boy  and  send  me  my 
shroud. 

"Yours, 

"  Summers." 

When  the  left-hand  side  was  unveiled  the  pic 
ture  was  so  vivid  and  real  my  father  gasped  for 
breath.  The  audience  roared;  Mrs.  Summers 
alternately  laughed  and  cried. 

When  order  was  once  more  restored  my  father 
arose  and  addressed  the  little  assemblage  as 
follows : 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen!  I  wish  to  state  that  I 
have  been  honestly  and  fairly  defeated  in  an 
intended  joke  by  the  cleverest,  most  genial  gen 
tleman  the  sun  ever  shone  on.  I  have  no  words 
at  my  command  to  express  my  admiration  for  this 
genius,  and  I  would  say  if  he  were  allowed  to 
draw  the  least  bit  upon  his  imagination  my  breath 
surely  would  have  left  me." 


Painting  on  the  wall  of  the  schoolhouse. 


OF  THU 

{  UNIVERSITY  ) 
^dUFORt4\|v 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  147 

This  greatly  relieved  Mrs.  Summers,  but  as  for 
myself  you  can  imagine  my  position,  for  that  was 
the  first  intimation  my  father  ever  had  that  it  was 
I  who  had  done  the  little  artistic  work  upon  his 
feet  for  which  he  had  nearly  chastised  Mr.  Sum 
mers. 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  Summers'  request  to  spare 
the  boy  was  respected.  That  primitive  school- 
house  was  afterward  the  scene  of  many  a  pleasant 
gathering,  and  the  occasion  of  the  unveiling  of 
the  paintings  was  long  remembered. 

The  whole  settlement  had  by  this  time  arranged 
for  their  maple  sugar  camps,  which  were  most 
profitable  and  enjoyable. 

The  maple  trees  grew  in  little  clusters  here 
and  there  among  the  other  timber  on  the  different 
tracts  of  land  taken  up  by  the  settlers  throughout 
that  section. 

The  sugar  maple  tree  has  a  smooth  bark  and 
usually  grows  quite  tall;  there  are  no  low-hang 
ing  limbs,  and  I  have  seen  them  as  large  as 
three  and  a  half  feet  in  diameter.  But  the  best 
juice-producing  trees  are  those  ranging  from 
eighteen  inches  to  two  feet  at  the  stump. 

Spiles  are  made  from  alders  about  an  inch  and 
a  half  in  diameter  and  eighteen  inches  long. 


148  MY    FIRST   SWEETHEART   AND 

The  pith  which  lies  at  the  core  was  punched 
out,  and  the  result  was  a  hollow  tube. 

The  trees  were  tapped  just  through  the  sap, 
which  is  usually  two  or  three  inches  thick,  with 
an  auger  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter; 
and  into  these  the  spiles  were  driven  tightly,  one 
to  four  spiles  to  a  tree  in  proportion  to  its  size. 

The  trees  were  tapped  during  the  season  when 
the  sap  was  running,  and  they  had  to  be  retapped 
every  Spring  and  new  spiles  put  in. 

Wooden  troughs  were  placed  under  these  spiles 
to  catch  the  juice  and  these  were  usually  emptied 
at  night.  The  boiling  buildings  were  ordinarily 
constructed  about  twenty  feet  wide  and  forty  feet 
long,  out  of  round  poles  six  to  ten  inches  in 
diameter,  with  shakes  nailed  over  the  cracks  on 
the  outside.  The  door  was  high  enough  for  a 
tall  man  to  walk  into. 

On  each  side  the  shake  roof  extended  up  to 
within  eighteen  inches  of  the  ridge-pole,  leaving 
an  opening  in  the  ridge  of  the  roof  from  two  to 
three  feet  wide  and  about  ten  feet  long.  Right 
in  the  center  of  the  building,  and  under  this 
opening  in  the  roof,  two  large  wooden  forks, 
about  ten  inches  in  diameter,  with  four-inch 
prongs,  were  firmly  set  in  the  ground  with  an 


Sugar  camp. 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  149 

eight-inch  pole  laid  across.  On  this  pole  hung  a 
series  of  kettles  for  boiling  down  the  juice  from 
the  trees  and  the  smoke  from  the  fire  under  the 
kettles  found  its  way  out  through  the  opening  in 
the  roof. 

This  little  loghouse  gave  sufficient  protection 
from  the  chilly  winds  and  afforded  a  pleasant 
place  for  those  whose  duty  it  was  to  watch  the 
kettles. 

There  was  an  opening  on  one  side  of  this 
building,  with  ample  space  to  admit  a  man  pass 
ing  in  with  two  buckets. 

They  usually  prepared  wood  in  the  daytime  to 
burn  at  night  under  the  kettles,  and  also  to  build 
bonfires  here  and  there  through  the  timber  to 
guide  their  steps  in  the  darkness  from  one  cluster 
of  trees  to  another. 

These  camps  were  never  shut  down  from  the 
time  they  were  opened  until  the  close  of  what  was 
termed  the  season  of  the  sugar-making. 

The  whole  settlement  looked  forward  every 
year  to  the  pleasure  of  the  camping  season  and 
great  preparations  were  made  for  it. 

Everyone  vied  with  his  neighbor  in  having  the 
neatest  punching  seats  and  tables  within  their 
cabins.  The  young  people  would  visit  alternately 


150  MY    FIRST    SWEETHEART    AND 

from  camp  to  camp,  the  young  men  carrying  the 
juice  from  the  trees  to  the  place  of  boiling  down, 
while  the  young  ladies  who  accompanied  them 
occasionally  sang  some  of  the  old-time  melodies, 
thereby  making  their  labors  pleasant  instead  of 
irksome. 

Sometimes  on  moonlight  nights  the  young 
folks  attended  to  the  kettles  while  the  old  people 
strolled  over  to  their  neighbors'  places  to  see  if 
the  juices  there  were  sweeter  than  their  own,  and 
to  inquire  if  their  trees  produced  more  to  the 
diameter  of  the  tree,  and  to  comment  upon  the 
best  methods  of  making  their  sugar  Frequently 
they  had  the  most  enjoyable  dances  at  these  camps. 

Mr.  Summers,  being  mechanically  inclined  and 
artistic  as  well,  had  constructed  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  commodious  camps  in  the  settle 
ment,  and  he  was  having  too  much  fun  over  there 
to  suit  my  father;  besides,  there  were  more  offers 
from  the  young  men  to  carry  Mr.  Summers'  swc  ^t 
juices  from  his  trees  than  he  had  juice  to  carry. 

Owing  to  our  friend's  genial,  jovial  nature  and 
his  little  Sarah's  sweet  songs  and  pleasant  man 
ners,  and  Mrs.  Summers  also  being  a  ready 
entertainer,  their  camp  became  the  most  noted 
for  social  enjoyment  in  the  settlement. 


SCENES    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD  151 

Story-telling  in  the  evenings  at  their  homes  or 
sugar-camp  gatherings  were  of  common  occur 
rence.  Some  would  tell  stories  on  themselves 
and  others  would  relate  jokes  they  had  heard, 
leaving  the  main  point  out,  and  would  then  look 
surprised  when  no  one  laughed. 

People  were  superstitious  in  those  days  and 
Summers,  recognizing  the  fact,  took  great  delight 
in  telling  blood-curdling  ghost  stories;  he  would 
then  look  around  in  a  sly  way  to  see  what  effect 
the  story  had  upon  his  listeners. 

Summers  with  his  ghost  stories  was  like  some 
people  telling  a  lie — the  first  and  second  time  of 
telling  it  they  knew  it  to  be  one;  after  telling  it 
several  times  they  begin  to  believe  it  really  true. 

My  father  had  taken  note  of  Summers'  yarns, 
and  having  in  mind  the  five  hundred  bushels  of 
corn  he  was  out  on  the  schoolhouse  paintings,  he 
proceeded  to  get  partly  even. 

About  two  hundred  yards  distant  from  the 
Summers'  camp,  along  the  road  leading  to  our 
house,  there  was  a  very  large,  pronged,  bushy- 
topped  oak  tree,  with  a  hollow  on  one  side 
running  from  the  ground  up  through  the  main 
body.  This  hollow,  being  back  from  the  road 
and  partly  hanging  over  an  abrupt  embankment, 


152  MY  FIRST   SWEETHEART   AND 

was  not  easy  of  access  on  a  dark  night.  My 
father  had  quietly  prepared  a  dummy,  one  side 
jet  black  and  the  other  side  white;  then  he  con 
structed  a  light  ladder,  and  these  he  hid  securely 
in  the  barn,  which  was  not  a  very  great  distance 
from  the  huge  old  tree. 

This  evening  Summers  called  upon  his  different 
neighbors  asking  them  to  come  to  his  camp. 
Upon  his  return,  about  eight  o'clock,  he  entered 
the  cabin  in  a  dazed  condition  and  staggered  to 
a  seat.  His  face  was  drawn,  his  eyes  had  lost 
their  mischievous  luster  and  the  sweat  stood  in 
beads  upon  his  brow. 

Mrs.  Summers  and  her  friends  were  frantic  to 
know  what  had  caused  him  to  be  in  such  a  state 
of  collapse. 

As  father  entered  the  house  Mrs.  Summers 
told  him  that  her  husband  had  received  a  fright 
of  some  kind  and  asked  him  to  find  out  if  he 
could  what  had  caused  it.  Mr.  Summers  pointed 
with  his  finger  up  the  road  toward  the  school- 
house. 

My  father  glanced  at  him  and  said,  "Summers 
your  long  confinement  in  the  schoolhouse  on 
those  paintings  has  brought  on  the  painter's 
cramps.  I  will  go  home  and  get  something  for 
you." 


SCENES   OF    MY   CHILDHOOD  153 

The  expression  on  his  face  caused  Summers  to 
assume  a  more  tranquil  aspect.  Presently  shouts 
were  heard  from  the  neighbors  and  the  tramping 
of  feet  coming  toward  the  camp,  each  one  trying 
to  relate  what  they  had  seen. 

Father,  instead  of  going  for  the  medicine, 
returned  to  the  tree  and  frightened  the  neighbors 
as  they  passed  to  the  camp.  This  particular 
night  being  dark  my  father  climbed  into  the  treef 
hung  his  dummy  on  some  pulleys  and  cords,  the 
latter  running  down  through  the  hollow  of  the 
tree  into  the  cavity,  where  he  ensconced  himself 
out  of  sight  and  where  he  was  well  protected. 
As  the  visitors  proceeded  to  Mr.  Summers'  camp 
this  hideous  thing  was  swung  to  and  fro,  while 
unearthly  noises,  seemingly  coming  from  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  saluted  their  ears. 

The  dummy  every  now  and  then  disappeared, 
only  to  reappear  again  more  mystifying  than 
ever.  The  whole  settlement  was  in  a  furor  of 
excitement.  Every  time  the  terrifying  object 
made  its  appearance  shots  were  fired  into  it; 
but  with  a  screech  and  a  bound  it  would  retreat 
into  the  thick  branches  of  the  tree  and  disap 
pear,  only  to  make  its  appearance  again  in  a  few 
minutes. 


154  MY    FIRST    SWEETHEART   AND 

Finally  a  chance  shot  cut  the  cord  by  which 
it  was  suspended.  It  came  crashing  down  through 
the  branches  of  the  tree,  frightening  the  crowd, 
and  they  scattered  in  all  directions. 

Thereupon  there  uprose  a  hearty  laugh  near 
the  tree.  They  investigated,  and  found  my 
father  roaring  with  laughter  and  the  tears  stream 
ing  down  his  cheeks,  as  Summers  had  laughed 
that  morning  by  the  creek ;  only  father  enjoyed 
it  more  because  the  people  now  saw  Mr.  Sum 
mers  in  his  vanquished  condition,  as  he  had  been 
seen  upon  the  night  of  the  unveiling  of  the 
paintings. 

The  dummy  ghost  taught  both  young  and  old 
that  the  return  of  the  departed  in  such  a  manner 
was  more  of  a  fiction  than  a  reality. 

All  returned  to  Summers'  camp  where  the  big 
bonfires  were  glowing,  and  the  evening  was  spent 
in  their  usual  social  way,  the  children  playing 
"puss-in-the-corner"  and  "  hide-and-go-seek." 

The  rosy-cheeked  maidens  and  young  men 
were  gathered  in  groups  talking  about  a  certain 
event  which  they  thought  was  soon  to  take  place, 
while  the  old  folks  were  whispering  and  nodding 
to  each  other  as  though  there  was  a  surprise  in 
store  for  someone. 


SCENES    OF   MY   CHILDHOOD  155 

One  rosy-cheeked  damsel  was  blushing  and 
looking  about  anxiously  as  though  waiting  for 
someone,  when  in  came  Mr.  Shylock's  son. 
Walking  up  to  her  he  said,  "Sarah,  it  is  all  settled; 
I  have  just  come  back  from  'Little  Blue,'  where 
I  have  located  a  piece  of  land,  and  now  (taking 
her  by  the  hand),  good  friends  we  want  your 
blessing  and  invite  you  all  to  the  house-raising." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Summers  were  congratulated  and 

o 

all  the  friends  promised  to  lend  their  services  to 
the  house-raising  the  next  day. 

The  following  morning  both  the  young  and  old 
men  of  the  settlement  were  seen  going  cheerfully 
along  to  erect  the  new  home  for  the  young 
couple,  and  each  member  of  the  little  com 
munity  contributed  to  the  furnishings.  In  a 
week's  time  their's  was  the  happiest  of  weddings. 
All  the  settlement,  as  one  big  family,  joined  in 
heart-felt  wishes  for  the  new  couple,  and  one 
more  home  was  added  to  the  settlement. 

Is  there  a  pen  capable  of  describing  those  old 
homes,  their  pleasures  and  their  charms,  their 
maple-sugar  making,  the  orchards  producing  the 
sweetest  of  fruits,  the  gardens,  the  loveliest  old- 
fashioned  flowers,  the  song  of  the  birds  amid  the 
clearing  of  the  fields?  Has  it  ever  been  described 
as  it  really  was? 


THE  COMMERCIAL  TRAVELER 


I  was  reared  in  a  rural  way,  but  the  ambition 
of  my  life,  when  a  boy,  was  to  become  a  commer 
cial  traveler.  I  had  often  hung  around  the  hotels 
in  the  village  near  where  I  lived  and  listened  to 
the  yarns  and  discussions  of  the  gentlemen  of  the 
road' — of  money  expended,  and  how  they  disposed 
of  the  same  in  their  expense  accounts;  the 
rebukes  they  had  received  from  their  employers ; 
of  the  interesting  people  who  had  touched  them 
by  their  geniality,  cleverness  and  sociability;  and 
of  the  fun  they  had  had  at  this  or  that  place. 

I  was  just  freezing  to  get  on  the  road  and  find 
the  funny  spot. 

I  had  noticed  that,  as  a  rule,  the  commercial 
man  was  young,  handsome  and  dressy.  As 
regards  myself  I  was  not  exactly  prepossessing 
in  appearance.  I  thought  I  could  improve  my 
manners,  but  my  form  I  could  not.  How  true  it 

156) 


THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  157 

is  that  some  people  dress  to  improve  their  appear 
ance,  but  instead  often  become  caricatures! 

Did  you  ever  see  a  certain  type  of  man  with  a 
plug  hat  on,  or  an  old  lady  wearing  a  girl's  bon 
net?  Ah!  it  is  perhaps  as  well  that  we  cannot 
see  ourselves  as  others  see  us. 

However,  I  tired  of  doing  the  same  thing  over 
and  over  again  every  year — plowing,  planting  and 
mowing ;  listening  to  the  low  of  the  cows  upon 
their  home-coming  in  the  evening;  the  neigh  of 
the  horse  in  the  pasture ;  the  bark  of  the  old  farm 
dog  at  the  passer-by;  and  the  crow  of  the  rooster 
in  the  tree  opposite  my  window  at  the  break  of 
day.  All  of  these  had  become  inexpressibly  irk 
some  to  me,  and  I  wished  to  hear  them  no  more. 
I  wanted  to  get  out  into  the  world;  I  longed  for 
what  I  considered  a  larger  sphere  of  action ;  and 
I  resolved  to  get  a  position  on  the  road  if  I 
could.  But  how  to  obtain  one  without  having 
some  experience  in  that  line  was  more  than  I 
could  tell. 

One  day,  while  glancing  over  a  New  York 
paper,  an  advertisement  caught  my  eye.  It  read 
as  follows:  "Wanted — A  young  man  to  go  on  the 
road ;  experience  not  necessary.  Address  Foxey 
&  Co.,  New  York." 


158  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

I  thought  of  that  funny  spot  in  the  commercial 
man's  life  and  I  wrote  at  once  to  the  address 
given,  stating  that  I  had  been  reared  in  a  rural 
way  without  any  experience  of  city  or  commercial 
life,  but  if  they  would  give  me  a  trial  I  would 
start  for  New  York  without  delay. 

In  a  few  days  I  received  a  reply  to  come  on 
and  if  they  did  not  employ  me  they  would  pay 
my  fare  both  ways.  My  small  preparations 
required  but  little  time  and  I  soon  arrived  at  the 
office  of  Foxey  &  Co. 

It  was  a  very  large  store;  the  floor  space  looked 
almost  as  big  as  one  of  Dad's  ten-acre  fields. 
They  had  all  kinds  of  goods  and  things  to  sell; 
but  the  stuff  did  not  look  very  new;  it  had  every 
appearance  of  having  been  on  hand  for  a  long  time. 

I  thought,  "By  Jove!  it  will  be  a  pretty  hard 
job  for  a  new  beginner  to  sell  old  goods;  how 
ever,  I  will  hear  what  they  have  to  say." 

I  went  into  the  office.  Here  were  old  Foxey 
and  his  partner,  both  men  well  along  in  years, 
but  who,  nevertheless,  appeared  to  be  of  the 
shrewd,  genial  business  type.  They  pumped  me 
dry  and  with  a  nod  and  a  sly  wink  to  his  partner, 
Foxey  remarked  that  I  " would  do,"  and  he 
thereupon  employed  me. 


THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  159 

I  could  not  believe  my  own  ears.  I  could  not 
understand  then  why  they  wanted  a  green  young 
man;  there  was  every  probability  that  I  would 
make  more  mistakes  in  one  month  than  it  would 
cost  to  employ  a  man  of  experience.  But,  I 
thought,  some  people  are  constituted  that  way, 
and  it  is  not  for  me  to  tell  them  whom  they 
should  employ. 

They  told  me  to  come  the  next  morning  pre 
pared  to  take  the  road,  and  they  would  give  me 
all  necessary  instructions  before  I  started.  I  was 
on  hand  bright  and  early  and  somewhat  dubiously 
inspected  my  outfit,  which  consisted  of  one  of 
those  old  square,  slick,  black  valises  for  my  cloth 
ing,  and  another  of  the  same  kind  filled  with  the 
company's  cards.  My  instructions  were  to  keep 
my  pockets  well  filled  with  the  cards,  never  to 
lose  an  opportunity  of  presenting  one,  and  to 
make  myself  agreeable  to  everyone  upon  all 
occasions.  When  my  supply  of  pasteboards  ran 
short  they  would  send  me  more  with  instructions 
what  town  to  make  next.  I  asked  if  they  were 
not  going  to  give  me  a  trunk  of  samples  (as  I 
had  noticed  drummers  displayed  their  samples,  as 
they  called  them)  But  the  reply  was,  "You 
must  become  acquainted  first,  afterward  we  will 


160  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

consider  trunks  and  samples,  if  we  think  it 
becomes  necessary."  So  with  my  two  square 
black  valises  and  a  plug  hat,  with  which  they  had 
presented  me,  I  accepted  and  started  out  on  my 
travels.  I  considered  that  I  made  quite  a  stun 
ning  appearance  and  I  resolved  I  must  not  make 
a  failure  of  this  trip  or  I  would  never  reach  the 
funny  spot  in  the  commercial  man's  life. 

You  ask,  did  I  find  it?  Yes!  for  the  other 
fellow.  You  see,  he  laughed  easier  than  I  did. 
I  will  tell  you  all  about  it. 

On  boarding  the  train  I  felt  somewhat  nervous 
and  knew  there  would  be  no  enjoyment  for 
me  until  after  I  had  made  a  few  presentations 
of  my  cards  and  had  become,  as  it  were, 
broken  in. 

I  piled  into  a  seat  with  my  luggage.  I  had 
not  been  there  long  before  the  conductor 
approached  with  -his  usual,  " Ticket,  please." 
With  one  hand  I  presented  my  ticket  and  with 
the  other  my  card.  He  looked  at  my  card,  then 
at  me,  smiled,  shoved  the  card  in  his  pocket  and 
walked  on.  I  said  to  myself,  "By  Jove!  that's 
easy ;  that  fellow  was  kind  of  struck  on  my  appear 
ance."  The  clever  smile  he  gave  me  braced 
me  up. 


My  first  start  on  the  road  as  a  commercial  traveler. 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  161 

It  was  only  a  short  run  to  the  next  station 
where  I  was  to  get  off  and  "work  the  town,"  as 
it  is  called. 

Upon  alighting  from  the  train  the  porter  got 
my  baggage  and  me  mixed  up  with  the  troupe  of 
a  vaudeville  show  and  shoved  me  into  a  private 
coach  which  they  had  telegraphed  ahead  for,  no 
doubt  taking  me  for  the  funny  man  of  the  show. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  hotel  a  lady  and 
gentleman  approached  me  and  asked  if  I  were 
not  minister  so-and-so.  That  so  nearly  paralyzed 
me  that  one  foot  slipped  off  the  curb  into  the 
gutter  with  a  sudden  jerk.  I  righted  myself  as 
soon  as  possible  and  replied  that  I  was  not,  at  the 
same  time  presenting  each  with  my  card.  They 
looked  at  me  and  then  at  my  card,  and  with  a 
pleasant  smile  bowed  themselves  away.  I  then 
walked  up  to  the  hotel  counter  and  picked  up  the 
pen  to  register.  As  I  did  so  the  clerk  said, 
"Are  you  not  the  justice  of  peace  from  Coon 
Hollow?"  I  replied  that  I  was  not,  and  pre 
sented  him  with  my  card.  He  looked  at  my 
card,  then  at  me  and  suddenly  got  red  in  the 
face.  I  suppose  he  did  not  dare  laugh. 

I  tell  you  they  treated  me  royally  in  that  town. 
Everybody  appeared  to  enjoy  my  society.  I 


162  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

presented  my  card  upon  every  occasion  and  it 
was  always  received  with  a  smile.  Even  the 
reporter  of  the  Boston  Despatch  called  at  the 
hotel  where  I  stopped,  took  my  picture  and  gave 
me  a  bully  write-up.  I  thought  my  clothes  were 
getting  a  little  tight  for  me  by  this  time  and 
I  felt  I  was  getting  nearer  the  funny  spot  in  the 
commercial  man's  life.  I  began  to  imagine  my 
success  as  a  commercial  traveler  would  be  of  the 
cyclone  order. 

As  I  had  remained  two  days  in  this  place  and 
was  now  off  for  the  next,  which  was  a  city  of  some 
importance,  I  began  to  wonder  if  everything 
would  work  as  smoothly  with  me  there  as  it 
had  hitherto  done  and  I  felt  I  had  left  more 
smiles  behind  me  than  frowns. 

As  the  train  pulled  into  the  next  station  I 
alighted  and  saw  a  large  number  of  hotel  runners 
lined  up  beside  a  rope  which  separated  them  from 
the  crowd,  calling  out  the  names  of  their  various 
hotels. 

As  I  sauntered  down  the  line  with  my  plug  hat 
on  the  back  of  my  head,  carrying  my  two  valises, 
the  uproar  that  came  from  those  runners  who, 
with  outstretched  hands,  appealed  to  me  for  my 
patronage,  led  me  further  to  believe  that  my 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  163 

appearance  was  that  of  an  individual  of  some 
importance.  They  were  a  jolly  lot  of  fellows 
and  appeared  to  be  laughing  very  heartily  at 
some  little  occurrence,  I  knew  not  what.  Their 
hilarity  amused  me,  however.  I  walked  slowly 
down  the  line,  making  a  careful  study  of  each 
one's  face,  as  from  my  impression  of  the  runner 
I  would  select  my  hotel.  I  had  scanned  them 
all  very  carefully  till  I  reached  the  end  of  the 
line,  where  a  man  of  immense  proportions  was 
calling  out  in  a  deep  barytone  voice  the  name  of 
his  house.  I  said  to  myself,  "If  that  fellow's 
house  is  as  substantial  as  he  looks,  that's  the 
place  I'll  hang  out."  So  I  gave  him  my  baggage 
and  my  card  and  boarded  the  bus  with  the 
driver.  Before  I  had  time  to  get  fairly  seated 
we  were  surrounded  by  a  mob  of  hotel  runners 
calling  out,  "What  house  are  you  running  for?" 
I  said  to  myself,  "  By  Jove !  this  is  pretty  good ; 
they  recognize  me  as  a  drummer  already,"  and  I 
began  to  distribute  my  cards  among  them  till  I  had 
emptied  my  pockets,  when  the  driver  whipped  up 
and  we  drove  off.  By  the  time  we  had  reached 
the  hotel  I  had  refilled  my  pockets  with  cards. 
The  hotel  office  was  a  large  place  and  the 
floor  v.-as  made  of  tiles  such  as  I  had  heard  the 


164  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

drummers  tell  about,  while  the  walls  and  ceiling 
were  beautifully  frescoed.  A  string  band  was 
playing  the  latest  selections,  but  the  piece  which 
pleased  me  more  than  all  the  rest  was  "Home 
Sweet  Home." 

The  landlord  of  this  hotel  had  a  natural, 
genial  way  about  him  which  drew  one  to  him; 
it  was  not  that  forced  geniality  that  many  people 
have,  so  raw  that  it  is  perceptible  to  the  most 
inexperienced.  He  appeared  to  enjoy  himself 
in  the  business  he  was  in,  owing  to  the  fact,  I 
presume,  that  he  was  gifted  with  keen  perceptive 
faculties  and  the  everlasting  panorama  of  human 
characters  floating  daily  before  him  was  one 
continuous  source  of  amusement. 

Well,  I  suppose  I  must  have  played  my  part  in 
entertaining  him,  for  when  he  got  throngh  with 
the  greetings  of  the  other  arrivals  he  walked 
across  the  floor  to  me  with  outstretched  hands. 
I  drew  myself  up  until  my  pantaloons  got  too 
short  for  me,  and  presented  him  with  my  card. 
He  looked  at  it,  then  at  me,  and  his  soft  blue 
eyes  twinkled  with  merriment  as  he  took  me  by 
the  hand  and  led  me  from  one  group  of  gentle 
men  to  another,  introducing  me  to  all,  and  to  each 
gentleman  as  I  was  presented  I  followed  the 


THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  165 

instructions  of  my  house  by  handing  out  my 
pasteboard. 

It  was  not  very  long  before  the  office  was  ring 
ing  with  laughter.  "By  Jove !  they  are  a  jolly  lot 
of  fellows,"  I  thought.  They  said  to  the  landlord 
that  he  was  one  of  the  finest  entertainers  that 
they  had  met  on  the  road,  and  I  remarked  to  an 
old  gentleman  standing  near  me  (thinking  I  had 
to  say  something)  that  the  string  band  played 
beautifully — that  last  piece  was  especially  well 
executed,  it  being  a  well-known  Strauss  waltz. 
He  looked  at  me  for  a  minute  with  a  peculiar 
smile  and  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye,  and  said, 
"Yes,  they  played  that  well;  they  did  it  as  well  as 
you  could." 

The  look,  more  than  the  remark  which  accom 
panied  it,  nettled  me,  and  I  replied  to  him  that  I 
did  not  claim  to  be  a  musician  of  equal  talent  with 
the  performers;  then,  as  my  resentment  rose 
higher  and  higher  at  the  slur  on  my  right  to  criti 
cize,  I  said  to  him  that  he  should  not  make  a 
remark  of  that  kind  unless  he  had  some  ability  in 
the  musical  line  himself.  He  replied  that  he  had, 
and  that  he  would  wager  the  drinks  for  the  house 
that  he  could  beat  me  playing  the  violin.  I  took 
a  look  around  the  house,  sizing  the  thing  up,  as  it 


166  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

were,  and  did  not  think  it  would  amount  to  very 
much,  as  there  were  not  many  present  at  that 
moment. 

I  formally  accepted  his  challenge,  never  dream 
ing  for  a  moment  that  by  communicating  with 
the  clubs  and  other  hotels  that  there  was  a  musi 
cal  contest  on  hand  worth  seeing  the  house 
would  be  filled  to  overflowing  in  a  short  time. 
We  arranged  for  a  violin.  An  old  gentleman  was 
selected  by  the  crowd  to  act  as  judge,  and  we 
drew  straws  to  see  which  should  play  first.  He 
drew  the  longest  straw  and  had  to  begin  the  per 
formance.  We  were  placed  on  chairs  facing  the 
wall,  with  the  judge  between  and  directly  behind 
us.  My  opponent  struck  off  at  a  pretty  lively 
gait,  but  in  my  judgment  his  playing  was  far 
below  the  average  of  the  poorest  that  I  had  ever 
done,  and  I  was  so  elated  that  I  slapped  one  hand 
on  my  knee,  with  a  wave  to  the  crowd  with  the 
other,  signifying  that  I  had  him. 

By  this  time  people  had  commenced  to  arrive 
in  large  numbers.  The  hotel  lobby  was  crowded 
and  they  were  standing  on  chairs  and  benches  in 
an  uproar  of  laughter  at  the  apparent  defeat  of 
my  opponent,  as  I  thought.  Just  then  the  judge 
tapped  me  on  the  shoulder  to  take  the  violin,  as 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  167 

it  was  my  turn.  I  had  been  so  taken  up  with 
the  increasing  crowd  and  their  hilarity  that  I  had 
not  thought  of  the  selection  which  would  be  most 
appropriate  for  the  occasion  and  bring  the  audi 
ence  to  tears,  which  was  my  real  object.  So  I 
began  with  a  prelude  ( in  order  to  get  accustomed 
to  the  violin  curve  on  the  finger-board  and  its 
tone)  before  launching  out  on  those  beautiful 
strains  I  had  pictured  in  my  mind.  The  audi 
ence  was  by  this  time  in  an  uproar. 

The  judge  at  my  elbow  had  been  very  quiet. 
I  concluded  I  would  turn  around  and  ascertain 
the  cause,  when  I  discovered  him  with  both  of 
his  forefingers  shoved  into  his  ears  up  to  the  first 
joint.  I  said  in  an  undertone,  "Judge,  how  am  I 
getting  on;  don't  you  think  I'll  win?"  He  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  ordered  me  to  stop  that  excruciat 
ing  noise  at  once,  as  he  had  fully  made  up  his 
mind  what  his  decision  would  be.  He  had  hardly 
got  through  when  a  table  on  rollers  was  moved 
to  the  center  of  the  room  and  he  was  lifted  upon 
it  bodily  by  the  crowd  and  requested  to  render 
his  judgment  from  this  improvised  platform  so 
that  he  could  be  heard  by  all. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  was  selected  by  you 
to  act  as  judge  of  this  musical  contest.  My 


168  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

decision  is  that  they  both  treat  the  house  for 
imposing  upon  this  crowd  such  hideous  strains, 
and  calling  it  music."  These  words  actually  took 
my  breath  away.  Two  or  three  hundred  people 
at  ten  cents  a  drink.  My  mind  wandered  back 
to  a  little  village  near  where  I  lived  and  where  I 
had  heard  the  drummers  discuss  the  money 
charged  in  their  expense  account.  I  wondered 
to  myself  how  the  deuce  I  would  explain  to  my 
house  thirty  dollars'  worth  of  drinks  in  one  night. 
Was  this  one  of  those  funny  spots  in  the  com 
mercial  man's  life  I  had  been  looking  for?  My 
pantaloons  had  been  too  short  for  me  all  the 
evening,  but  they  were  long  enough  now.  The 
glasses  were  clinking  merrily  over  the  bar  at  my 
expense  and  as  the  vast  crowd  drank  to  my  health 
and  success,  I  would  step  forward  with  a  sub 
dued  bow  and  present  each  one  with  my  card.  I 
noticed  that  every  individual  when  receiving  it 
would  look  first  at  me  and  then  at  the  card.  Those 
more  bold  would  laugh  outright,  while  those  who 
were  modest  and  retiring  would  swell  up,  get  red 
in  the  face  and  smile.  I  began  to  understand 
that  there  was  something  wrong  somewhere,  and 
meant  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  what  there  was 
about  me  and  that  infernal  card  which  caused 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  169 

such  merriment.  After  the  crowd  in  the  lobby 
had  been  served  with  drinks  and  cigars  I  was 
informed  by  the  bartender  that  I  owed  him  just 
$32.20  for  the  part  I  had  taken  in  that  little 
musical  contest.  I  paid  it,  and  at  the  same  time 
I  thought  of  the  presentiment  I  had  when  start 
ing  out  on  the  road  that  I  would  in  some  way 
receive  a  shock  to  my  nervous  system  before  I 
returned.  The  shock  had  come  with  a  ven 
geance,  and  I  said  to  myself  that  the  next  man 
who  offered  to  bet  he  could  beat  me  playing  on 
the  violin  or  any  other  instrument  would  be 
immediately  and  emphatically  informed  of  the 
fact  that  there  was  not  a  solitary  musical  chord 
in  my  whole  anatomy.  But  how  the  deuce  was  I 
to  explain  the  expenditure  of  $32.20  in  one  night 
for  whisky  in  my  expense  account?  Foxey 
would  be  simply  paralyzed,  and  that  meant  dis 
missal  and  disgrace  for  me. 

By  twelve  o'clock  that  night  the  crowd  had 
pretty  well  dispersed,  and  knowing  that  a  number 
of  old  experienced  drummers  had  been  present 
and  witnessed  my  defeat,  I  decided  to  invite  a 
few  of  them  up  to  my  room  to  take  counsel 
how  best  to  make  out  my  expense  account. 
They  readily  consented  to  help  me.  We  went 


170  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

upstairs,  pulled  a  table  to  the  center  of  the  room 
and  gathered  around  it.  I  was  informed  by  one 
that  my  opponent  in  the  musical  contest  was  an 
old  veteran  of  the  road  from  Louisville,  Ken 
tucky,  and  one  of  the  shrewdest  as  well  as  one  of 
the  jolliest  men  who  ever  drummed  the  trades. 

Finally  one  suggested,  "Charge  it  up  to  enter 
taining  the  trade."  Another  replied,  "That's  an 
old  gag;  he  has  no  trade."  "Then  why  not 
charge  it  up  to  incidentals?"  Another  said,  "The 
incidental  business  is  played  out."  A  third  old 
fellow  sitting  there  apparently  half  asleep,  inter 
posed,  "Young  man,  charge  it  up  to  experience." 

At  this  juncture  there  was  a  loud  rap  upon  the 
door,  and  who  should  walk  in  but  my  opponent 
in  the  musical  contest.  Without  even  a  word  of 
salutation  he  said,  "Youngster,  charge  it  up  to 
painting  the  town  red."  That  did  seem  to  me 
the  most  appropriate  suggestion  yet  made.  He 
then  apologized  very  nicely  for  intruding,  and 
stated  that  he  had  taken  the  liberty  of  bringing  a 
few  of  his  friends,  whom  he  knew  it  would  be 
well  for  me  to  meet,  and  he  thereupon  bade  them 
enter  and  introduced  me.  They  proved  to  be 
eight  or  ten  of  the  leading  commercial  men  of  the 
town,  and  following  closely  behind  them  were  two 


THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  171 

or  three  waiters  with  large  metal  trays  loaded 
down  with  the  finest  drinks  and  cigars. 

This  broke  up  the  discussion  on  the  expense 
business,  as  I  did  not  care  to  go  into  it  any  fur 
ther  under  the  circumstances,  and  I  did  not 
approve  of  any  of  the  suggestions  the  drummers 
had  made. 

After  spending  an  hour  of  hilarity  the  com 
pany  left  me  in  my  solitude  to  ponder  over  the 
events  of  the  evening. 

My  room  faced  the  main  street;  the  rattle  of 
milk  wagons,  drays  and  buses  over  the  cobble 
stones,  and  the  clink  of  glasses  at  the  bar, 
directly  under  me,  were  not  sounds  of  the  lullaby 
order  conducive  to  sleep.  The  atmosphere  of  the 
room  smelt  like  a  crowded  street  car  on  a  rainy 
day. 

I  slept  but  little  that  night.  I  somehow  felt 
that  I  was  not  through  with  that  mob  yet — or 
rather,  that  they  were  not  through  with  me. 

I  arose  early  next  morning  and  went  down  to 
the  lobby  of  the  hotel.  I  was  met  by  the  head 
bartender,  who  presented  me  with  a  bill  of  $10.50 
for  cigars  and  drinks  ordered  for  the  consulting 
board  which  had  met  in  my  room  the  night 
before.  I  meekly  paid  it. 


172  THE   COMMERCIAL  TRAVELER 

I  then  sat  down  and  wrote  my  house  all  the 
facts  in  connection  with  the  trip,  stating  in  my 
expense  account  that  I  had  got  into  a  musical 
contest  with  a  ruffian  from  Louisville,  one  who  I 
believed,  by  the  way,  was  an  old  knight  of  the 
road.  By  him  and  through  him  it  cost  me  (or 
rather  you,  if  you  please)  $42.70  for  whisky  and 
cigars  in  one  night.  Then  a  realizing  sense  of 
their  injustice  in  sending  out  an  inexperienced 
boy  to  cope  with  men  who  had  spent  years  in  the 
business  overcame  me.  I  spunked  up  and  talked 
to  Mr.  Foxey  as  probably  no  salesman  had  ever 
done  before,  in  conclusion  informing  him  that  if 
my  services  were  not  needed  any  longer  he  could 
wire  me  at  once,  and  I  would  await  his  reply  at 
this  place. 

After  I  had  mailed  my  letter  I  concluded  to  go 
to  my  room  and  ascertain,  if  possible,  the  cause 
my  attractiveness.  I  placed  myself  in  front  of 
the  mirror  with  my  head  bared;  I  could  not  see 
anything  wrong  with  my  appearance.  Then 
suddenly  I  thought  of  that  infernal  card,  which  I 
had  never  even  taken  the  trouble  to  read, 
although  I  had  given  thousands  of  them  away. 
I  took  one  from  my  pocket.  It  read  as  follows: 
"Second-hand  goods  of  all  descriptions,  and  any 


THE    COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  173 

old  things.      For  full  particulars  address  Foxey 
&  Co.,  No. Street,  New  York." 

I  just  took  that  card,  set  it  on  the  shelf  along 
side  the  glass,  donned  my  plug  hat,  picked  up  my 
two  valises  and  presented  myself  in  front  of  the 
mirror  so  that  I  could  see  myself  as  others  had 
seen  me. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  say  that  I  now  discovered 
the  reason  for  the  hilarity  of  everyone  whom 
I  met. 

I  awaited  a  reply  from  my  house  with  some 
foreboding,  you  may  be  assured. 

In  a  few  days  I  received  it.  I  took  that  letter 
and  hid  myself  away  in  my  room  where  no  mortal 
eye  could  see  me.  Opening  it  I  read: 

"Dear  Sir: — Your  letter  duly  received.  Your 
expense  account  is  allowed.  (At  that  I  sprang  to 
my  feet  and  my  pantaloons  again  became  too 
short  for  me.)  Your  salary  is  raised  $25.00  per 
month  (I  swelled  up  until  the  buttons  almost 
burst  from  my  vest  and  I  threw  my  hat  to  the 
ceiling).  We  have  heard  good  reports  from  you 
all  along  the  route.  We  got  the  paper  at  your 
first  stop-off  wherein  they  gave  you  an  amusing 
write-up.  We  have  had  numerous  inquiries  from 
along  your  route  requesting  catalogues  and  prices, 


174  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

and  we  have  sold  a  number  of  cases  of  damaged 
goods,  second-hand  wagons,  buggies,  harness, 
etc.,  and  we  send  you  money  and  cards  by 
express.  Cards  are  same  as  last,  excepting  that 
we  have  added  new  as  well  as  second-hand  goods. 
Take  stage  to  country  villages  and  to  Sunnyside 
and  we'll  write  you  more  fully  at  that  place." 

At  this  juncture  I  sprang  over  the  table, 
grabbed  the  door-knob,  and  with  a  jerk  threw 
the  door  wide  open,  jumped  astride  the  stair-rail 
and  slid  down  into  the  sitting-room  below,  land 
ing  in  a  heap  with  a  thud  on  the  floor.  Two 
strangers  sitting  near  where  I  landed  ran  to 
assist  me  to  my  feet.  As  they  neared  me  I 
thrust  my  card  to  each  one.  They  proved  to  be 
newspapermen  of  the  city  looking  for  news. 

You  ask,  "Did  they  get  it?"  All  that  I  can 
say  is,  if  they  didn't  it  was  not  my  fault. 

I  was  dubbed  at  that  place  "Any  Old  Thing." 

I  had  to  wait  two  or  three  days  for  money  and 
cards  at  the  hotel  where  I  had  met  my  Waterloo 
in  the  musical  contest,  and  in  the  meantime  I 
outlined  my  route  to  Sunnyside  and  other  coun 
try  villages. 

The  first  stop,  I  was  informed,  would  be  at 
noon  of  the  first  day  at  "Old  Laughing  Billy 
Jones'"  place. 


THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  175 

I  noticed  in  the  papers  the  next  morning  that 
those  two  infernal  reporters  had  published  my 
card  with  my  picture  alongside  of  it,  stating  that 
I  was  to  arrive  by  stage  at  "Old  Laughing  Billy 
Jones'"  about  noontime,  on  a  certain  day,  and 
the  meeting  of  "Old  Laughing  Billy  Jones"  and 
"Any  Old  Thing"  would  be  interesting,  and 
those  near-by  should  not  miss  the  occasion. 

Those  papers,  of  course,  were  sent  broadcast 
through  the  country  before  me,  and  I  began  to 
wonder  now  if  old  Foxey  &  Co.  had  anything  to 
do  with  my  notoriety.  Was  it  possible  that  they 
had  been  feeing  these  reporters  to  make  a  guy 
out  of  me  just  to  advertise  their  business? 
"Well,"  I  thought,  "they  pay  me  well;  let  them 
go  it  if  they  like,  and  I'll  see  it  out  and  find  that 
funny  point  in  the  commercial  man's  life,  if  there 
is  one,  before  I  stop." 

In  two  or  three  days  my  money  and  cards 
arrived,  and  I  boarded  the  next  stage  for  Sunny- 
side  and  other  country  villages  as  instructed. 

I  was  informed  by  the  driver  that  our  first 
stop  would  be  for  dinner  at  "  Old  Laughing  Billy 
Jones'."  I  was  the  only  passenger  on  the  stage 
that  day  and  the  driver  would  have  liked  to  talk 
my  left  arm  off.  I  had  not  slept  much  since  I 


176  THE   COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

started  on  the  road  on  account  of  the  noises 
characteristic  of  city  life.  As  we  got  well  out 
into  the  country  the  air  and  the  gentle  rocking 
of  the  coach  soon  lulled  me  to  sleep,  and  as  I 
dozed  off  the  last  I  remember  of  the  driver's 
incessant  chatter  was  that  Miss  Sally  Jones, 
"Old  Laughing  Billy's"  daughter,  had  been  fool 
ing  around  a  drummer  and  there  was  talk  of 
their  getting  married;  but  they  didn't  and  there 
was  a  row  and  "Old  Laughing  Billy"  wasn't 
stuck  on  drummers  any  more. 

I  was  dead  to  the  world  in  sleep  for  how  long 
I  don't  know.  I  can't  tell  you  anything  about 
the  country  I  passed  through  here,  for  I  didn't 
see  it.  All  of  a  sudden  !  was  awakened  by  the 
cling-clang-cling-clang  of  a  bell.  I  looked  out  of 
the  stage  and  saw  that  we  had  arrived  at  "Old 
Laughing  Billy  Jones'"  country  inn. 

The  proprietor  was  sitting  on  a  bench  upon 
the  porch  pulling  on  a  bale  rope  attached  to  a 
bell  fastened  on  the  top  of  a  tall  pole.  Beside 
him  lay  a  gaunt,  hungry-looking  hog  basking  in 
the  sunshine  and  a  dog  standing  in  the  doorway 
appeared  as  though  he  longed  for  someone's  cow 
to  die  with  a  hollow  horn. 


i  I 


"Old  Laughing  Billy  Jones' "  place. 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  177 

As  I  alighted  from  the  stage  with  my  plug  hat 
on  the  back  of  my  head  and  the  two  valises  which 
played  such  an  important  part  in  my  make-up, 
"Laughing  Billy"  just  turned  loose  with  a  whirl 
wind  of  "Haw!  haw!  haw!  haw!  haw!"  then 
caught  his  breath  in  a  different  key — "Ho!  ho! 
ho!  ho!  ho!"  and  when  he  had  run  down  he 
called  to  his  wife,  "Mother,  come  here,  it's 
come!" 

The  old  lady,  hearing  the  uproar,  ran  to  the 
door,  and  as  she  did  so  she  inquired,  "What's 
come?"  Billy  Jones  replied,  "Any  Old  Thing, 
Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!"  At  that  moment  an  old 
billy-goat  made  his  appearance  around  the  corner 
of  the  house,  through  a  half-tumbled-down  garden 
gate,  and  began  at  once  to  make  free  with  me 
and  my  baggage,  rearing  up  on  his  hind  feet  and 
coming  sidewise,  with  his  chin  and  his  whiskers 
tucked  slightly  under.  I  realized  something  had 
to  be  done  at  once,  as  :<Old  Laughing  Billy"  and 
the  crowd  which  had  gathered  at  the  inn  were 
convulsed  with  laughter.  I  did  not  have  any 
nails  or  old  tin  cans  to  give  that  infernal  goat  so 
I  just  shoved  one  of  my  cards  into  his  face.  He 
took  it  and  scampered  away.  As  he  did  so  a 
gentle  e  mile  rippled  over  his  mouth  and  whiskers. 


178  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

When  the  goat  had  got  through  greeting  me 
and  "Old  Laughing  Billy"  had  subsided,  I  had 
an  opportunity  to  notice  that  extraordinary  man. 
He  was  a  tall,  lean,  lank  individual,  with  a  few 
long,  stiff,  straggling  hairs  on  his  slick  bald  head, 
and  with  such  a  mischievous  looking  eye  that  it  was 
no  wonder  they  called  him  "  Laughing  Billy 
Jones." 

Mrs.  Jones  soon  informed  us  that  dinner  was 
ready.  There  were  about  ten  or  twelve  persons 
seated  around  the  table.  The  one  who  interested 
me  most  was  a  worldly  looking  man  past  middle 
age,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  when  dinner  was 
over  I'd  find  out  who  he  was  if  he  did  not  die 
before  I  got  the  opportunity  of  making  his 
acquaintance;  and  this  is  no  jest  either,  for  he 
was  devoting  himself  most  assiduously  to  a  large 
platter  of  sickly  looking  green  cucumbers  which 
had  been  placed  before  him. 

"Old  Laughing  Billy"  proceeded  to  tell  us 
about  his  short  crop  this  year.  He  did  not  have 
the  time  to  attend  to  it  as  he  should,  he  was  so 
fully  occupied  in  managing  the  hotel  and  enter 
taining  his  guests.  As  he  said  this  he  looked 
over  toward  me  and  let  go  another  "Haw!  haw! 
haw!  haw!  haw!"  Just  then  a  hog  walked 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  179 

through  the  dining-room  where  we  were  eating. 
"Old  Billy"  said,  "Mother,  drive  the  hog  out." 

Then  the  man  in  whom  I  had  become  so  inter 
ested  arose  and  left  the  table;  it  was  quite  evi 
dent  that  the  simple  manners  of  the  country 
people  did  not  comport  with  his  city-bred  ideas. 
I  feared  he  might  get  away  without  my  finding 
out  who  he  was,  so  I  followed  him. 

On  entering  the  sitting-room  I  thought,  "  Now 
I'll  present  him  with  my  card,  and  if  he  has  a 
card,  that  will  make  him  show  his  hand."  I 
walked  up  to  him  and  handed  him  my  omnipres 
ent  credential,  and  he  accepted  it  with  a  polite 
bow,  at  the  same  time  drawing  forth  his  own  from 
a  neat  case.  Upon  it  was  printed,  "Boston  Des 
patch''  I've  forgotten  his  name,  but  I  could  not 
help  wishing  that  the  pestiferous  goat  had  butted 
that  reporter  co  death  before  I  arrived. 

However,  he  was  very  pleasant,  and  as  we 
walked  out  upon  the  porch  in  front  of  the  house 
he  complained  of  not  feeling  well.  I  suggested 
it  might  be  the  green  cucumbers  he  ate  that  made 
him  sick.  He  replied,  with  an  insinuating  look, 
that  "he  never  could  resist  the  temptation  of  tak 
ing  in  everything  green  that  he  came  across."  I 
retorted,  "  Do  you  always  find  it  the  best  thing 
to  do?" 


180  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

The  driver  had  now  changed  horses,  and  being 
impatient  to  start,  shouted  out,  "All  aboard  for 
Sunnyside!"  As  we  rolled  away  I  noticed  the 
poverty-stricken  appearance  of  the  place — the 
corn  was  about  waist-high,  and  had  a  pale,  sickly 
look ;  the  wheat  and  oats  were  short  in  straw  and 
head;  and  the  fences  around  "Old  Billy's"  neigh 
borhood  were  generally  in  a  dilapidated  condition. 
It  looked  as  though  they  did  more  farming  around 
"  Old  Jones' '  and  the  blacksmith-shop,  store  and 
post-office,  whittling  on  boxes  and  fences,  than 
they  did  in  the  fields. 

"Old  Billy"  and  his  troubles  soon  passed  from 
our  view,  and  as  we  drove  over  the  brow  of  the 
hill  a  beautiful  landscape  of  rolling  country  lay 
before  us.  Here  and  there  were  streams  of  clear 
running  water,  the  banks  of  which  were  fringed 
with  timber. 

Meadows  of  timothy  hay,  wheat,  oats  and  corn 
alternating  with  their  different  hues,  in  the  midst 
of  which  could  sometimes  be  seen  a  good 
substantial  old  brick  house,  with  broad  porches, 
standing  back  from  the  road,  surrounded  by 
fruits  and  vines  of  every  variety  made  a  scene 
most  pleasing  to  the  eye.  As  we  passed  the 
suburban  homes  nearing  Sunnyside  the  air  came 


THE   COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  181 

to  us  permeated  with  sweet  odors  from  the  fast 
ripening  fruit  upon  the  trees  and  from  the  flowers 
in  the  gardens.  Strains  of  music,  frequently 
accompanied  by  voices,  floated  out  to  us  at 
intervals  upon  the  still  evening  air.  The  cows 
were  sauntering  leisurely  from  the  pastures,  with 
an  occasional  low  to  notify  their  masters  of  their 
home-coming  and  the  faithful  old  watchdog 
greeted  us  now  and  then  with  a  friendly  bark. 

On  arriving  at  Sunnyside  we  found  it  to  be  a 
beautiful  little  town  lying  along  the  banks  of  a 
river. 

After  supper  the  reporter  and  myself  took  a 
stroll  through  the  village.  The  air  was  soft  and 
balmy  and  the  young  ladies  were  walking  arm 
in  arm  with  their  sweethearts,  while  the  stars  in 
the  dark  blue  sky  above  winked  at  their  love- 
making.  This  made  me  lonesome  and  homesick. 
We  noticed  that  everybody  appeared  to  be  going 
in  the  same  direction,  which  plainly  indicated  a 
gathering  of  some  kind ;  so  we  allowed  ourselves 
to  be  led  by  the  crowd.  The  stream  of  humanity 
at  last  turned  into  a  broad  walk,  both  sides  of 
which  were  lined  with  walnut  and  locust  trees. 
This  led  us  to  a  little  old-fashioned  church,  set 
well  back  from  the  road.  We  walked  in  and 
took  our  seats. 


182  THE   COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

I  remember  during  the  sermon  the  minister 
remarked  that  "Some  people  had  a  head  on  their 
shoulders,  while  others  had  only  a  knot  on  the 
end  of  the  spinal  column."  At  this  that  infernal 
reporter  looked  at  me  and  smiled.  When  the 
sermon  was  over  they  passed  around  the  mis 
sionary  box,  which  appeared  to  be  their  usual 
custom.  As  it  was  presented  to  an  old  gentleman 
of  rather  pleasing  appearance  sitting  in  front  of 
us,  I  noticed  that  he  contributed  two  pieces  of 
money  and  as  they  jingled  into  the  box  it 
reminded  me  of  a  story  I  once  heard  of  a  man 
whose  contribution  was  always  in  a  dual  form. 
Some  uncharitable  people  said  it  was  done  so 
that  others  might  hear  the  money  rattle.  Finally 
the  usher  whose  business  it  was  to  attend  to 
that  particular  aisle,  becoming  curious,  one  day 
after  service  proceeded  to  pump  him.  "  Doctor," 
he  said,  "  I  have  noticed  that  upon  a  number  of 
occasions  you  have  contributed  to  the  missionary 
cause  a  dollar  and  a  ten-cent  piece ;  now,  Doctor, 
this  must  have  some  significance  and  we  wish 
to  know  its  meaning."  The  doctor  replied, 
"  Every  individual  has  his  own  peculiar  idea  of 
things  and  this  is  one  of  mine."  But  the  usher 
was  not  going  to  let  him  off  so  easily  and  said, 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  183 

"That  explanation  is  not  satisfactory,"  insisting 
upon  knowing  the  reason.  The  doctor  replied, 
"  I  contribute  the  ten-cent  piece  to  the  missionary 
cause  and  the  dollar  to  defray  its  expenses." 

The  reporter,  when  I  told  him  this,  remarked, 
"That's  a  good  one;  next  time  I  get  sick  I'll  send 
for  that  old  fellow."  "Do  you  think  that  will  be 
before  I  leave  this  town?"  I  asked. 

I  remained  in  Sunnyside  for  several  days  and 
made  some  very  pleasant  acquaintances.  It 
seemed  to  me  more  like  the  pleasurable  spot  in 
the  commercial  man's  life  than  any  place  I  had 
hitherto  seen. 

I  received  a  letter  while  here  from  old  Foxey 
&  Co.,  telling  me  to  come  back  to  New  York 
without  delay.  When  I  read  it  I  said  to  myself, 
"  Guess  there  is  something  wrong  with  my  expense 
account."  Opportunity  not  having  presented  itself 
to  allow  of  my  distributing  many  of  my  company's 
cards,  and  as  I  was  to  leave  the  next  morning  over 
a  different  route  from  that  which  I  had  come,  I 
decided  to  avail  myself  of  the  chance  of  playing  a 
practical  joke  upon  the  reporter,  so  I  wrote  on 
two  or  three  hundred  of  the  cards,  "  Represented 
by  the  Boston  Despatch"  and  just  before  daylight 
I  went  and  threw  these  cards  into  all  the  yards 


184  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

and  doorways  of  business  houses  in  the  town.  I 
left  on  the  next  stage  for  New  York  City,  but 
with  a  heavy  heart. 

I  disliked  to  leave  the  soft,  balmy  air  of  the 
country,  where  freedom  and  happiness  reigned  and 
where  for  several  days  I  had  heard  the  familiar 
sounds  which  had  once  tired  me,  but  which  now 
became  inexpressibly  dear  to  me  again.  What  a 
contrast  between  the  life  here  and  that  of  the 
city,  with  its  little  stuffy  hotel  rooms,  where  the 
rattle  of  milk  wagons,  drays  and  buses  would  be 
mingled  with  one's  dreams,  and  the  foul  odors  of 
the  sewers  would  float  into  one's  window  on  the 
still  night  air !  It  was  the  reverse  of  the  funny 
spot  in  the  commercial  man's  life. 

Father  had  sold  his  farm  since  I  had  left,  and 
I  could  not  now  retrace  my  steps  and  go  back  to 
the  old  place,  as  I  should  certainly  have  done  had 
it  been  possible. 

On  arriving  in  New  York  City  I  immediately 
made  my  way  to  the  store  of  Foxey  &  Co.  I 
was  called  into  the  private  office,  and  somehow  I 
felt  there  was  trouble  in  store  for  me,  for  the  same 
two  men  who  had  nodded  and  winked  to  each 
other  that  I  "would  do,"  appeared  grave  and 
stern,  and  I  wondered  if  those  reporters  had  had 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  185 

anything  to  do  with  it.  Then  I  thought  of  the 
cards  I  had  cast  abroad  in  the  little  town  of  Sim- 
nyside,  and  straightway  jumped  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  Boston  Despatch  man  WPS  at  the  bottom 
of  my  troubles.  Still,  I  thought,  most  reporters 
are  a  good  jolly  lot  of  fellows  and  he  has  no  reason 
to  do  me  harm.  It  is  only  now  and  then  that 
you  find  one  who  is  soured  on  the  cob  and  strikes 
in  all  directions  like  a  blind  rattler  in  dog  days. 

However,  I  was  soon  relieved  of  my  anxiety, 
for  they  told  me  they  were  well  pleased  with  my 
trip,  and  the  numerous  inquiries  they  had  received 
from  along  my  route  had  led  them  to  place  in  my 
hands  a  deal  of  great  importance  to  them,  a  deal 
of  thousands  of  dollars.  They  gave  me  the 
name  of  a  gentleman  and  the  hotel  at  which  he 
was  stopping  and  told  me  to  call  upon  him  at 
once.  I  replied  that  I  did  not  think  I  could 
meet  with  their  expectations.  "Call  upon  him 
at  once,"  was  their  reply. 

I  called  at  the  hotel,  as  I  had  been  requested, 
sought  out  the  gentleman  and  presented  my  card. 

He  looked  at  the  card,  then  at  me,  smiled,  and 
asked  me  to  be  seated. 

He  was  a  short,  thick-set  man,  with  a  pleasing 
face  and  manners.  I  soon  ascertained  that  he 


186  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

was  not  only  at  the  head  of  a  large  manufactur 
ing  plant  in  one  of  Ohio's  busiest  cities,  but  was 
a  United  States  senator  as  well,  so  hereafter  I 
will  call  him  the  Senator. 

After  I  was  seated  he  looked  at  my  card  again 
and  smiled.  I  thought,  "  I'm  darned  glad  I  have 
not  got  those  two  square  black  valises  with  me." 
"Well,"  he  said,  kind  of  chuckling  to  himself, 
"  What  have  you  got  to  sell ?  "  I  thought,  "What 
in  the  deuce  will  I  say?"  I  did  not  want  to  make 
a  break  before  a  United  States  senator,  but  to 
save  my  life  I  could  not  think  of  a  thing  we  had 
to  sell.  He  still  chuckled  and  said,  "What  did 
you  say  that  you  had  to  sell?"  Before  I 
thought  I  replied,  "Any  old  thing."  "What's 
the  price?"  he  inquired.  At  that  I  was  almost 
bewildered,  when  a  messenger  boy  marched  in 
and  coming  straight  up  to  me  handed  me  a 
message  from  Foxey  &  Co.  It  read: 

"We  have  just  purchased  a  bankrupt  stock  of 
railroad  iron  supplies,  steel  boiler  plates,  etc. 
We  have  an  almost  unlimited  quantity  of  this 
stock  and  should  you  find  a  buyer  will  make 
figures  for  you  that  will  interest  him.  The 
quantity  that  we  supply  will  cut  some  figure  in 
the  price." 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  187 

I  read  the  despatch  and  passed  it  to  the  Sena 
tor.  He  looked  it  over,  appeared  to  study  its 
contents  closely  and  then  handed  it  back.  At 
that  moment  a  tall,  handsome,  dark-eyed  man 
walked  in,  approached  the  Senator  and  said, 
"Well,  Senator,  I  have  arranged  to  entertain  you 
this  evening." 

The  Senator  bowed  and  introduced  me  to  a 
Mr.  Marshall  of  Chicago,  and  I  soon  ascertained 
that  he  was  in  the  same  business  as  myself. 
Fearing  that  the  new  arrival  would  get  the  Sena 
tor  away  from  me  I  ventured  to  say,  "  Senator,  I 
was  just  about  to  ask  you  to  accompany  me  to 
the  theater  this  evening  when  Mr.  Marshall 
appeared." 

With  a  sly  wink  at  the  Senator,  Marshall 
replied,  "You  join  us;  we  will  be  glad  to  have 
you.  It  won't  cost  you  a  cent."  At  this  junc 
ture  a  gentleman  of  medium  size,  of  the  blonde 
type,  with  sea-blue  eyes,  and  somewhat  effemi 
nate  in  his  manner,  walked  up  and  shook  hands 
with  the  Senator  and  Marshall,  and  from  their 
conversation  I  discovered  that  his  mission  was 
also  the  same  as  Marshall's  and  my  own.  He 
was  introduced  to  me  as  Mr.  Meyers  of  New 
York.  The  brisk  Chicago  man  seemed  to  have 


188  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

constituted  himself  the  host  of  the  evening,  and 
he  promptly  extended  an  invitation  to  Meyers  to 
consider  himself  a  member  of  our  party. 

The  messenger  who  had  brought  the  note  from 
Foxey  still  lingered  around  as  though  he  had 
received  instructions  from  the  firm  to  make  him 
self  useful,  so  I  excused  myself  for  a  few  moments 
and  wrote  back  as  follows : 

" Foxey  &  Co.,  Dear  Sirs:— Mr.  Marshall  of 
Chicago  is  with  the  Senator,  also  a  Mr.  Meyers  of 
this  city,  both  upon  the  same  mission  as  myself, 
and  both  old-timers  on  the  road.  Send  up  your 
best  and  most  ready  entertainer  if  you  expect  the 
results  to  benefit  you. 

"  This  mission  you  have  sent  me  on  has  the 
flavor  of  another  musical  contest  or  something 
similar,  and  its  magnitude  I  cannot  even  venture 
to  guess." 

The  reply  came  promptly:  "Dear  Sir: — We 
know  of  no  one  who  has  found  fault  with  you  as 
an  entertainer.  (My  hat  fell  off.)  We  send  you 
by  messenger  one  thousand  dollars  to  use  in  the 
contest  for  that  man's  trade.  More  in  waiting  if 
you  need  it. — Foxey  &  Co." 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  said,  "By  Jove!  old 
Foxey  is  blooded,  and  I'll  make  that  deal  if  I  get 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  189 

into  jail  for  my  expense  account.  I  guess  the 
boss  has  been  on  the  road  himself,  but  how  in  the 
deuce  am  I  to  spend  the  money  to  help  the  matter 
along?"  For  we  were  all  Marshall's  guests, 
and  the  Senator  was  not  a  man  to  be  trifled 
with. 

The  more  I  thought  of  the  thing  the  more 
bewildering  it  became.  One  thousand  dollars  in 
crisp  new  greenbacks,  and  a  contest  of  wits  to  be 
fought  out  that  would  baffle  the  most  experienced! 
I  could  not  understand  either,  why  Marshall  had 
been  so  ready  with  his  invitation  to  me;  however, 
I  concluded  to  accept  the  situation  philosophically; 
probably  they  were  taking  me  along  to  have 
some  fun  with  me,  and  while  they  were  doing 
that  old  Foxey  undoubtedly  thought  I  might  find 
out  something  to  his  advantage. 

The  afternoon  was  wearing  away  and  I  wanted 
to  be  alone  to  think  out  my  plans.  So,  after 
promising  to  meet  the  party  about  half  past  seven, 
I  excused  myself  and  went  to  my  room  in  a 
decidedly  dejected  frame  of  mind. 

A  few  familiar  trinkets  which  I  had  brought 
from  the  old  farm  were  upon  the  center-table,  and 
in  my  aimless  ramblings  around  the  room  I 
mechanically  picked  up  from  among  the  lot  a 


190  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

whistle  made  from  a  hazel  bush,  in  the  manu 
facture  of  which,  as  a  boy,  I  had  taken  special 
pride.  I  blew  it  and  it  had  the  same  vibrant 
tone  which  I  had  been  so  proud  of  the  day  I 
made  it  down  by  the  creek  with  the  boys.  Just 
then  a  loud  rap  came  on  the  door.  I  called, 
"Come  in."  A  keen  wiry-looking  man  appeared 
before  me  and  introduced  himself  as  the  head  of 
the  detective  bureau.  I  asked  him  what  in  the 
deuce  he  wanted  with  me.  Without  one  word  of 
reply  he  handed  me  this  message: 

"Should  you  need  assistance  in  your  contest 
for  trade,  which  we  realize  will  probably  be  one 
of  some  magnitude,  we  recommend  the  bearer  of 
this  note  and  his  associates. 

to  Foxey  &  Co." 

I  asked  him  to  be  seated.  How  could  I  make 
use  of  detectives?  Then  I  thought  of  my  whistle, 
and  associated  detectives  and  whistle  together. 
I  said,  "  Captain,  I  have  a  matter  of  great  impor 
tance  intrusted  to  me."  I  then  explained  to  him 
the  nature  of  the  case,  the  experienced  men  with 
whom  I  had  to  deal,  and  that  I  was  a  green  boy 
from  the  country.  I  told  him  I  had  been  invited 
to  be  the  guest  of  these  gentlemen  for  the  even 
ing,  but  that  I  wished  it  to  be  so  arranged  that 


THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  191 

they  should  pay  nothing  except  where  it  was  to 
my  interest  for  them  to  do  so ;  that  I  desired  him 
to  take  a  sufficient  force  of  men  and  shadow  our 
every  move ;  that  when  he  heard  the  whistle  there 
should  be  no  money  received  from  those  who  had 
invited  me  out.  Should  the  whistle  not  be  blown, 
then  those  who  gave  the  order  must  foot  the  bill. 
He  would  have  to  change  his  men  alternately  so 
they  would  not  be  discovered  when  following  us. 

The  captain  replied  that  he  understood,  and 
that  he  could  carry  out  the  programme  with  per 
fect  ease;  that  his  men  would  anticipate  our 
every  move,  and  would  appear  as  hack-drivers, 
waiters,  policemen,  theater  clerks  and  social  busi 
ness  men,  so  that  I  could  communicate  with  them 
when  necessary.  I  told  him  to  be  on  hand  at  a 
certain  hotel  at  7:30  sharp,  supplied  him  with  the 
money  necessary  and  arranged  a  code  of  signals. 

I  returned  to  the  hotel  at  the  appointed  time, 
and  found  my  friends  and  a  carriage  in  waiting. 
The  programme  was  a  drive  through  the  park 
and  a  box  in  a  Broadway  theater. 

We  soon  took  our  seats  in  the  carriage  and 
were  off  down  through  the  Bowery.  As  we 
passed  one  of  those  numerous  places  character 
istic  of  that  thoroughfare,  1  heard  a  childish  voice 


192  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

pleading  in  piteous  tones  with  someone,  for  what, 
I  could  not  tell.  I  threw  the  carriage  door  open, 
and  springing  out  made  my  way  to  a  low  saloon 
from  whence  the  sound  proceeded. 

The  pathos  of  the  scene  cannot  be  described. 
A  tough  looking  man  stood  behind  the  bar; 
another,  whose  once  pleasing  features  were  now 
distorted  with  drink,  was  leaning  against  the 
counter,  in  one  hand  clutching  a  few  pieces  of 
paper  money  of  small  denomination.  The  bar 
keeper  was  urging  him  to  release  his  grasp  upon 
it.  Beside  the  wretch  who  held  the  money  was 
a  little  flaxen-haired  girl,  with  her  long  unkempt 
hair  hanging  down  her  back,  her  dress  in  tatters 
and  shreds,  her  feet  and  limbs  bare,  and  her 
sweet  face  and  soft  musical  voice  pleading  with 
her  father  not  to  spend  his  last  cent  for  drink. 
It  was  most  touching  as  she  clung  to  his  hand, 
entreating  the  man  behind  the  bar  not  to  take 
the  last  cent  from  her  father;  as  her  mother  was 
sick  and  had  earned  that  money  with  her  needle. 
She  said  her  father  was  so  good  and  kind  when 
he  was  sober.  The  man  behind  the  bar  made 
another  effort  to  release  the  drunken  man's  grasp 
upon  the  money.  "Oh!  please,  Mr.  Barkeeper," 
the  little  child  cried,  "don't  take  the  money,  we 
are  starving!" 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  193 

My  blood  was  fast  reaching  the  boiling  pitch, 
but  I  was  perfectly  helpless  to  aid  the  child,  as  I 
thought.  The  room  contained  a  number  of  men, 
who,  I  felt  convinced,  would  not  tolerate  any 
interference  with  what  they  considered  a  legiti 
mate  business.  I  must  have  looked  the  indigna 
tion  I  felt,  for  a  big  man,  clad  in  a  long  ulster, 
and  himself  a  seeming  devotee  of  Bacchus, 
unsteadily  approached  me.  He  managed  to  lurch 
heavily  against  me  and  I  turned  away  in  disgust; 
but  while  doing  so,  amid  his  profuse  and  drunken 
apologies,  I  caught  a  whisper  that  electrified  me. 
He  said,  "Blow  your  whistle."  My  whistle!  I 
had  forgotten  all  about  it  in  the  excitement  of 
the  moment.  I  drew  it  forth  and  blew  it.  The 
effect  was  something  unexpected.  The  big  man 
instantly  sobered  up,  and  stepping  up  to  the  bar 
picked  up  the  child  as  though  she  were  a  feather, 
and  leading  the  father  away  said,  "We'll  take 
'em  home,  away  from  this  den  of  vice." 

You  ask  me  why  I  blew  my  whistle?  Were 
not  the  police  there?  No,  they  were  not.  Why 
should  they  be?  Did  not  the  power  of  a  great 
city  give  the  pirate  license  to  sell  his  poison  on 
that  street  at  that  number  ?  Had  not  the  little 
girl  a  right  to  plead  with  her  drunken  father  not 


194  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

to  spend  the  money  earned  by  her  sick  mother? 
There  is  a  higher  law  than  that  made  by  man 
which  we  are  sometimes  compelled  to  obey,  and 
I  took  the  chance  of  interfering  with  a  business 
which  the  officials  of  a  great  city  had  licensed  to  rob 
weak  men  and  women  of  their  faculties  and  money. 

I  reentered  the  carriage  and  we  proceeded  on 
our  way  toward  the  park.  The  Senator  was 
quick  and  observing;  his  long  experience  of  the 
world  had  taught  him  to  read  invisible  hand 
writing  on  the  walls,  and  he  showed  by  his 
actions  that  he  believed  I  had  something  to  do 
with  the  dash  of  that  stalwart  man  to  the  little 
girl's  rescue.  But  he  said  nothing.  He  was 
most  kind  and  considerate  toward  me,  however, 
and  several  times,  when  he  thought  I  was  not 
observing  him,  I  caught  his  eye  upon  me  while  a 
perplexed  expression  crossed  his  countenance. 
He  knew  I  was  a  green  country  fellow  and  a 
stranger  to  city  ways.  He  was  sure  of  that,  or 
he  might  have  guessed  my  secret. 

We  made  two  or  three  halts  on  the  way  for 
refreshments,  -but  I  thought  it  best  at  these 
places  to  allow  the  whistle  to  remain  silent.  On 
our  return  from  the  park  we  stopped  for  dinner. 
I  blew  my  whistle. 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  195 

The  cashier,  with  a  courteous  bow,  told  Mr. 
Marshall  there  was  no  charge.  The  expression 
upon  that  fellow's  jovial  face  brought  forth  a 
peal  of  laughter  from  the  Senator  and  Meyers. 
Marshall  said  nothing  but  looked  as  though  he 
was  thinking  about  something.  We  walked  out, 
took  the  carriage  to  the  theater  and  on  arriving 
there  I  got  off  to  one  side  and  blew  the  whistle. 
Marshall  approached  the  driver  and  asked  him 
what  the  bill  was.  "  No  charge,"  the  driver  replied. 

Mr.  Marshall  turned  to  us  all,  and  with  some 
thing  which  sounded  very  like  profanity  said, 
"My  friends  are  trying  to  play  a  practical  joke 
upon  me,  but  whoever  it  is  it  won't  last  long.  I'll 
tire  them  out." 

He  walked  up  to  the  box-office  in  the  theater 
and  called  for  the  most  expensive  box  in  the 
house.  Just  ahead  of  him,  however,  another 
man  was  purchasing  a  ticket.  He  seemed  to 
have  some  trouble  in  making  his  selection;  at 
any  rate,  he  thrust  his  long  body  half  way  into 
the  window  and  appeared  to  be  on  the  best  of 
terms  with  the  ticket  man.  Immediately  after 
him  came  Marshall.  He  laid  the  money  down. 
A  little  trill  on  the  whistle — his  money  was 
shoved  back.  He  was  told  it  was  no  good. 


196  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

"What!"  he  exclaimed,  savagely,  "do  you 
mean  to  say  I'm  a  counterfeiter?"  '•  Oh,  no!" 
the  clerk  replied,  "there  is  no  charge."  The 
Senator  and  Meyers  almost  went  into  spasms  as 
the  bewildered  Marshall  pocketed  the  tickets 
and  his  money,  and  we  all  went  into  the 
theater. 

But  Marshall  was  uneasy;  something  was 
troubling  him,  and  presently  he  suggested  that 
as  the  play  was  dry  we  should  go  to  the  Casino 
Theater,  where  we  could  sit  in  the  garden  among 
the  palms  and  look  down  on  the  stage,  and 
have  refreshments,  if  we  so  desired. 

As  we  were  his  guests,  we  all  readily  consented. 
We  took  a  hack  and  soon  arrived  at  the  door  of 
the  Casino,  and  as  we  alighted  Marshall  passed 
the  driver  a  piece  of  money.  The  whistle  was 
silent.  Marshall  looked  around  surprised,  then 
he  walked  to  the  theater  box-office  and  ordered 
four  tickets.  I  blew  the  whistle.  His  money 
was  returned  with  the  announcement  that  there 
was  no  charge.  I  kept  that  fellow  so  busy  with 
his  accounts  with  that  whistle  of  mine  that  he  did 
not  have  much  time  to  talk  to  the  Senator  on 
business.  I  knew  the  Senator  intended  to  leave 
the  next  morning  on  the  four  A.  M.  train.  If  I  could 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  197 

just  manage  to  keep  this  man  Marshall  from  dis 
covering  my  little  racket  I  thought  I'd  be  all  right. 

We  took  seats  around  a  table  and  Marshall 
ordered  wines  and  cigars.  By  this  time,  how 
ever,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  either 
Meyers  or  myself  was  the  instigator  of  the  mis 
chief  and  he  watched  us  so  closely  that  I  had  no 
opportunity  to  even  get  at  the  whistle,  not  to 
mention  blowing  it.  A  large  painting  hung  on 
the  wall  at  a  slight  distance  from  us.  I  excused 
myself  and  went  to  inspect  it  and  while  so 
engaged  blew  the  signal.  But  as  I  turned 
around  to  rejoin  my  friends  there  stood  the 
Senator  at  my  very  elbow.  He  had  seen  the 
little  maneuver. 

I  smiled  and  put  the  whistle  in  my  pocket  and 
we  were  soon  reseated  at  the  table.  When 
Marshall  offered  to  pay,  his  money  was  refused. 
He  tried  to  tip  the  waiters;  they  smiled,  shook 
their  heads  and  walked  away. 

Then  Marshall  waxed  wroth  and  accused  Mr. 
Meyers  of  putting  up  some  joke  on  him.  Mr. 
Meyers  was  a  man  who  enjoyed  a  joke  when 
played  upon  anybody  else,  but  could  not  take 
one  himself;  some  hot  words  passed  between 
them  in  reference  to  it. 


198  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

I  sat  there  like  a  good  boy  in  Sunday-school, 
and  the  Senator  whispered  to  me  that  he  would 
give  me  five  dollars  for  the  whistle.  I  imagined 
he  felt  sorry  for  Mr.  Marshall,  and  thought  if  he 
could  get  the  whistle  the  thing  would  stop. 

I  replied  the  whistle  was  one  I  had  made 
when  a  boy  and  there  was  a  charm  about  it,  and 
I  could  not  think  of  disposing  of  it. 

They  soon  tired  of  the  Casino  and  the  Senator 
proposed  to  take  a  drive  down  to  the  famous 
Hoffman  saloon. 

On  alighting  from  the  hack  at  the  saloon  the 
Senator  begged  me  to  let  him  blow  it.  He  did 
so  just  as  Mr.  Marshall  was  in  the  act  of  hand 
ing  the  driver  his  money.  The  reply  was,  "  No 
charge." 

While  Mr.  Marshall  was  chagrined  the  Senator 
and  Mr.  Meyers  were  convulsed  with  laughter. 
I,  of  course,  kept  quiet.  I  thought  this  really 
appeared  to  be  one  of  the  funny  spots  in  the 
commercial  man's  life. 

The  Senator  was  the  only  one  of  the  three 
who  had  discovered  the  existence  of  the  whistle, 
but  I  knew  by  his  actions  that  he  was  sorely 
puzzled  how  the  signal  was  so  instantly  under 
stood  and  implicitly  obeyed. 


THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  199 

As  we  entered  the  saloon  Mr.  Marshall  said 
that  he  knew  half  of  the  people  in  that  saloon, 
and  as  some  of  his  friends  were  trying  to  play  a 
practical  joke  upon  him  he  would  make  it  expen 
sive  for  them  before  he  stopped. 

At  that  the  Senator  passed  the  whistle  back  to 
me. 

The  place  was  furnished  with  the  utmost  ele 
gance;  great  mirrors  lined  the  walls  from  floor 
to  ceiling.  I  came  very  near  walking  through 
one,  thinking  it  was  an  opening  into  another 
room. 

My  bumping  against  the  mirror  brought  forth 
peals  of  laughter  from  the  crowd,  and  Mr.  Mar 
shall  asked  the  Senator  where  he  got  me.  The 
Senator  anxiously  inquired  whether  I  had  broken 
anything.  I  soon  saw  that  both  Marshall  and 
Meyers  were  favorite  clubmen,  and  the  former 
told  his  friends  that  some  one  that  evening  had 
tried  to  play  a  practical  joke  upon  him.  Meyers 
quickly  retorted,  "They  hadn't  tried — they 
simply  did." 

This  remark  nettled  Marshall  again,  and  he 
told  Meyers  he'd  get  even  with  him  for  the  part 
he  had  taken  in  it.  Marshall  believed  that 
Meyers  was  responsible  for  the  whole  thing. 


200  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

That  was  too  much  for  me.  I  chuckled  and  the 
Senator  gave  me  a  sly  wink. 

Neither  Meyers  nor  Marshall  had  seen  my 
card;  they  knew  nothing  of  my  mission  with  the 
Senator,  although  they  knew  the  Senator  was  in 
some  way  interested  in  me,  and  it  annoyed  them 
because  they  could  not  fathom  its  meaning. 

Had  they  seen  the  message  I  had  shown  the 
Senator  at  the  hotel  from  Foxey  &  Co.  before 
their  arrival  they  probably  would  not  have  asked 
me  to  be  their  guest. 

Marshall,  in  his  generous,  off-hand  way,  invited 
all  present  to  have  refreshments  with  him,  at  the 
same  time  watching  every  movement  that  Meyers 
made. 

The  crowd,  however,  had  not  forgotten  what 
they  thought  was  a  drummer's  fish  story  about 
some  one  paying  all  of  Marshall's  bills  that  even 
ing,  and  the  outcome  of  this  treat  was  anxiously 
watched. 

When  all  had  been  served  Marshall  laid  a  roll 
of  bills  upon  the  counter  and  the  cashier  told  him 
with  a  polite  bow  there  would  be  no  charge. 
That  gave  his  friends  an  opportunity  of  having  a 
little  fun  at  his  expense. 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  201 

I  wondered  to  myself  if  this  was  one  of  the 
funny  spots  in  a  drummer's  life  for  Marshall  and 
Meyers. 

It  was  now  twelve  o'clock  and  the  Senator 
excused  himself,  saying  he  would  be  compelled 
to  retire,  as  he  had  to  take  the  four  A.  M.  train 
for  home,  and  he  thanked  Marshall  for  the 
pleasant  evening  he  had  enjoyed. 

The  veiled  sarcasm  of  the  Senator's  courteously 
expressed  gratitude  made  Marshall  wince;  I 
giggled.  Then  the  guest  of  the  evening  turned 
to  me,  shook  hands  most  cordially  and  said  he 
hoped  to  see  me  soon  again.  ( I  said  to  myself, 
"If  you  don't  I'm  liable  to  go  to  jail  for  this 
night's  racket.")  Marshall  was  allowed  to  secure 
the  hack  to  take  the  Senator  home.  As  the 
Senator  had  now  gone  and  suspicion  lay  upon 
Mr.  Meyers,  the  whistle  remained  silent. 

We  all  left  soon  after  for  our  hotels,  and  I  did 
not  go  down  to  Foxey  &  Co.'s  for  two  or  three 
days.  In  the  meantime  I  discovered  that  Meyers 
had  left  New  York  City  for  the  Senator's  Ohio 
town  where  his  immense  manufacturing  plant  was 
located.  That  piece  of  news  I  thought  meant  my 
doom  upon  that  deal. 


202  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

I  went  down  to  see  Foxey  at  once  and  resolved 
to  make  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  affair,  and  to 
tell  them  plainly  that  I  had  on  their  behalf 
painted  the  town  red,  and  was  almost  out  of 
paint. 

I  entered  the  office  with  a  subdued  look  and  a 
heavy  heart.  Their  greeting  was  all  that  could 
be  desired,  and  just  as  I  was  about  to  tell  them  of 
my  defeat  they  handed  me  a  letter  which  they 
had  received  that  very  day.  It  was  from  the 
Senator,  with  a  list  of  his  wants  enclosed,  request 
ing  prices,  and  with  instructions  to  send  the 
answer  down  at  once  by  "Any  Old  Thing." 

"The  letter  is  very  satisfactory— very,  indeed/' 
Mr.  Foxey  said,  complaisantly  rubbing  his  hands 
together.  "There  is  only  one  point  about  it 
which  will  admit  of  explanation,  and  that  is,  what 
can  the  gentleman  mean  by  the  extraordinary 
expression,  'Any  Old  Thing?1 ' 

I  blurted  out,  "Why,  your  infernal  card  gave 
me  that  name  wherever  I  went."  "Well,  Any 
Old  Thing,  take  the  train  at  once,  and  don't  you 
come  back  until  you  get  that  order."  "But,"  I 
protested,  "  couldn't  you  send  some  of  your  other 
'Any  Old  Things'  to  finish  up  that  job?"  He 
replied,  "That  card  was  gotten  up  for  your  special 


The  picture  of  Meyers  that  Marshall  signed  my  name  to. 


THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  203 

benefit."  For  a  few  minutes  I  felt  as  though  I 
wanted  to  kill  somebody,  but  I  didn't. 

After  making  a  few  arrangements  I  boarded 
the  train  and  arrived  at  the  Senator's  office  about 
ten  A.  M.  next  morning.  As  I  walked  in  who 
should  I  meet  but  Mr.  Meyers  with  the  Senator. 

My  competitor  was  in  a  dejected  frame  of  mind 
and  would  not  speak  to  me.  Evidently  some 
thing  had  happened;  the  Senator  was  leaning 
back  in  his  chair  and  laughing  heartily. 

I  did  not  know  what  to  think  of  this  odd 
reception  until  my  eye  happened  to  rest  on  a  pen 
drawing  hanging  above  the  desk.  It  was  the 
representation  of  a  hack  being  drawn  through 
one  of  New  York's  toughest  streets.  An  indi 
vidual  in  the  last  stages  of  intoxication  was 
leaning  out  of  the  carriage.  His  clothes  were  in 
disorder,  his  head  was  bandaged,  but  the  features 
which  were  visible  bore  a  most  striking  resem 
blance  to  my  friend  Meyers,  and  on  the  bottom 
of  the  picture  was  written : 

"This  is  the  way  Meyers  looked  the  next 
morning  when  we  sent  him  home  in  a  cab,"  and 
my  name  was  signed  to  it  in  big  bold  letters. 

I  tried  to  explain  that  I  did  not  do  it,  but  that 
only  increased  the  Senator's  hilarity  and  Mr, 


204  THE  COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

Meyers'  indignation,  and  I  was  holding  forth 
eloquently  in  my  own  defense,  when  I  was 
interrupted  by  a  gentle  tap  on  the  office  door 
and  in  walked  Mr.  Marshall  with  one  arm  in  a 
sling,  one  eye  bandaged,  and  numerous  patches  of 
court-plaster  adorning  his  face  and  head. 

The  Senator  gave  him  a  quizzical  look,  and 
then  glanced  significantly  at  the  picture  on  the 
wall,  while  Marshall  graphically  narrated  the 
story  of  a  dreadful  train  wreck  which  he  had  just 
experienced.  We  were  all  prompt  with  our 
condolences,  but  no  accounts  of  that  smash-up 
ever  appeared  in  the  papers. 

I  made  up  my  mind  that  this  versatile  drummer 
had  executed  that  bit  of  artistic  work,  as  I  had 
overheard  a  remark  passed  by  one  of  the  guests 
at  the  Hoffman  House  that  Mr.  Marshall  made 
beautiful  pen  sketches ;  but  I  was  unable  to  con 
vince  anybody  of  the  fact,  and  the  charge  of 
cartooning  Mr.  Meyers  on  a  drunk  rested  upon 
me. 

The  Senator  said  that  he  had  received  the 
drawing  by  mail  about  an  hour  previous  to 
Meyers'  arrival. 

It  was  now  nearing  the  hour  of  noon  and  the 
Senator  invited  us  to  lunch  with  him  at  his  club- 
rooms. 


THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  205 

He  informed  Marshall  that  he  was  a  pretty 
hard  looking  case,  but  he'd  tell  them  at  the  club 
that  he  was  all  right  and  would  pass. 

When  we  were  seated  in  a  private  apartment 
the  Senator  threw  out  some  insinuations  about 
my  whistle,  and  wanted  to  know  if  it  would  work 
as  well  here  as  it  did  in  New  York. 

Mr.  Meyers  and  Marshall  looked  at  each  other. 
This  was  the  first  they  had  heard  of  the  whistle. 
I  avoided  making  any  reply  and  went  straight  at 
the  Senator  about  the  goods  in  question,  finally 
presenting  my  figures  sealed  up.  The  others, 
perceiving  that  it  was  necessary  for  them  to  act, 
followed  suit. 

The  Senator  scanned  the  prices  carefully  and 
then  said  that  while  I  was  a  few  dollars  lower 
yet  he  did  not  feel  justified  in  giving  me  the 
order,  because  he  had  been  buying  goods  of 
Meyers  and  Marshall  for  a  long  time  and  had 
always  found  them  satisfactory  in  their  dealings. 

This  was  discouraging  enough,  and  my  oppo 
nents  were  correspondingly  elated  and  were  not 
slow  in  showing  it ;  but  I  still  had  a  trump  card 
left  and  I  resolved  to  play  it.  I  excused  myself 
for  a  moment  and  when  I  returned  said,  "Well, 
Senator,  if  I  don't  get  the  order  I  can  have  the 


206  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

picture,  can't  I?"  "I  don't  know  about  that;  I 
had  intended  to  preserve  it  as  a  very  choice 
specimen  of  art/'  he  replied.  "But,"  I  persisted, 
"suppose  I  can,  without  getting  up  from  this 
table,  hand  you  that  picture  here,  in  this  room, 
inside  of  thirty  ninutes,  will  you  give  it  to  me 
then?"  The  Senator  looked  me  over  thoroughly, 
then  glanced  under  the  table  and  around  the 
room  as  though  he  thought  I  might  have  had 
the  thing  hidden  somewhere  about  me.  But  no, 
the  picture  was  evidently  where  he  had  left  it 
hanging  in  his  office.  It  could  not  by  any  possi 
bility  have  been  purloined.  Having  made  up  his 
mind  on  this  point  he  leaned  over  toward  me, 
and  speaking  very  deliberately  and  tapping  the 
table  with  his  pencil  between  every  word  as  if  to 
give  emphasis  to  it,  he  said,  "Young  man,  if  you 
can  deliver  me  that  picture  here  in  this  room 
within  thirty  minutes,  without  leaving  the  table 
or  holding  verbal  or  written  discourse  with  any 
one  on  the  subject,  you  shall  have  not  only  the 
picture,  but  the  order  as  well." 

Eureka!  I  almost  fell  out  of  my  chair  in  my 
excitement,  but  I  managed  to  draw  forth  the 
whistle  and  give  a  very  mild  toot,  knowing  well 
that  it  would  carry  the  short  distance  I  wished. 


THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER  207 

Marshall  muttered  something  about  "that 

whistle  again,"  but  the  Senator  merely  looked  at 
his  watch  and  remarked  that  I  had  probably  for 
gotten  that  we  were  not  in  New  York,  and  that 
many  things  which  might  be  accomplished  there 
were  impossible  in  a  smaller  city. 

"  You  are  disposed  to  hedge,  are  you,  Senator?" 
I  asked.  "Not  at  all — not  at  all,"  was  the  reply. 
"You  fulfill  your  part  of  the  agreement  and  I 
certainly  shall  mine." 

The  conversation  turned  to  other  matters  and 
we  proceeded  with  the  meal.  Twenty  minutes 
dragged  along — I  own  I  thought  it  was  an  hour 
— when  the  Senator  drew  out  his  watch  again 
and  looked  at  it  while  an  incredulous  smile  lit  up 
his  face.  Silence  fell  on  the  group. 

After  a  moment  someone  said  (I  think  it  was 
Marshall),  "It'll  have  to  get  here  pretty  quick  if 
you  are  going  to  win."  The  words  were  hardly 
out  of  his  mouth  when  the  head  waiter  appeared, 
closely  followed  by  a  tall  well-dressed  man.  The 
latter  with  great  deliberation  apologized  for  his 
intrusion  and  then  asked  which  of  the  dis 
tinguished  company  before  him  responded  to  the 
name  of  Mr.  Harvey  Argyle.  Almost  bursting 
with  impatience  I  gasped  out  that  I  was  that 


208  THE    COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER 

individual.  "  In  that  event,"  he  responded, 
speaking  slowly  and  in  somewhat  drawling 
accents,  "  I  am  commissioned  to  give  you  this 
package,"  and  with  a  low  bow  he  withdrew. 

I  seized  the  precious  parcel,  tore  off  the 
v/rappings  and  there,  sure  enough,  was  the 
picture.  If  ever  there  was  a  dazed  man  it  was 
the  Senator.  However  he  was  as  good  as  his 
word  and  signed  the  bid  at  once.  And  if  ever 
there  were  two  angry  men  they  were  Meyers  and 
Marshall;  but  they  presently  got  over  it  and 
demanded  to  be  told  how  it  was  done.  I  was 
just  on  the  point  of  enlightening  them  when  a 
loud  voice,  in  unmistakably  Hibernian  accents, 
demanding  to  see  the  "Guv'nor,"  attracted  our 
attention,  and  a  moment  after  a  highly  excited 
individual  who  proved  to  be  the  Senator's  special 
attendant  at  his  office,  was  ushered  in.  He  was 
hatless  and  coatless  and  likewise  breathless  from 
a  long  run,  but  with  much  gasping  and  panting 
he  managed  to  get  out  his  story.  It  was  about 
as  follows: 

"Guv'nor,  I  wuz  eatin'  me  dinner — me  an' 
Flaherty — when  I  heard  a  racket  down  the 
strate,  an'  before  you  could  say  'Patsy  Bolliver,'  a 
team  drew  on  to  the  sidewalk  like  mad,  an'  four 


THE    COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER  209 

ruffians  jumped  out  an'  wan  stood  at  the  horses' 
hids,  an'  thray  cum  into  the  offus,  an'  two  sat  on 
me  an'  Flaherty — on  the  hids  of  us,  moind  ye — 
an'  held  us  down ;  an'  the  other  felly  just  took 
an'  ransacked  the  whole  place.  I  think  you're 
robbed,  sor,  but  all  we  can  find  gone  is  that  pic 
ture  a  hangin'  over  the  disk." 

The  Senator  drew  a  long  breath.  "So  that's 
how  it  happened.  Bless  me!  And  I  took  you 
for  a  green  country  boy!" 

Then  Mr.  Marshall  and  Mr.  Meyers  congratu 
lated  me  upon  my  success. 

I  telegraphed  Foxey  &  Co.  that  I  had  secured 
the  order,  and  would  arrive  home  the  following 
day. 

We  took  the  train  that  evening  for  New  York 
City,  and  I  entered  the  office  of  Foxey  &  Co. 
about  2:30  on  the  following  day.  I  showed 
them  the  order  signed  for  $107,000.  The  two 
old  men  embraced  each  other  and  danced  around 
the  room  in  a  gleeful,  boyish  way.  In  the  midst 
of  their  hilarity  two  familiar  figures  stepped  into 
the  office  and  joined  them  in  the  dance.  On 
looking  at  them  closely  I  discovered  one  was  the 
man  whom  I  had  called  the  ruffian  from  Louis 
ville,  Kentucky,  the  hero  of  the  musical  contest; 


210  THE   COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER 

the  other  was  the  reporter  for  the  Boston  Des 
patch  whom  I  had  left  at  Sunnyside. 

In  the  height  of  the  dance  I  got  excited  and 
thought  of  the  times  that  I  had  called  for  country 
dances,  and  I  yelled,  "Honors  to  your  partner 
and  balance  all!  "  They  began  to  do  some  double 
shuffle  on  the  corners,  and  I  called  out,  "  First 
gent  to  the  right!"  but  instead  they  sashayed  and 
did  some  high  kicking.  When  they  recovered 
from  their  joyous  mood  they  informed  me  that 
they  had  been  friends  from  boyhood  and  old 
"knights  of  the  road  "  together.  This  accounted 
for  their  interest  in  me. 

Well,  I've  been  off  the  road  for  several  years, 
but  I  see  that  the  boys  are  still  figuring  upon 
their  expense  accounts  and  how  they  will  manage 
to  get  the  trade  at  the  next  town. 


A  HORSE-RACE  FOR  A  WIFE  IN  THE 
DAYS  OF  SLAVERY 


The  fastest  horse  does  not  always  win  in  a 
race  where  there  is  money  at  stake,  but  when  the 
hand  of  a  beautiful  woman  is  the  prize  and  men 
are  in  deadly  earnest  as  to  the  result,  that  is 
different. 

Away  down  in  the  blue  hills  of  old  Virginia, 
nestling  among  the  woods  which  lined  the  coun 
try  road,  and  separated  by  a  distance  of  several 
miles,  three  Southern  mansions  stood. 

The  Parks,  Strongs  and  Sharps,  who  occupied 
respectively  the  three  places,  had  long  been 
recognized  as  among  the  first  families  of  the 
State. 

Dotted  here  and  there  on  the  plantations  were 
the  usual  negro  quarters,  and  many  of  the  old 
plantation  melodies  sung  by  the  darkies  living 
there  are  still  pleasant  memories. 

(211) 


212  A    HORSE-RACE    FOR    A    WIFE 

I  remember  one  little  darkey  more  particularly 
than  the  others,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  him. 

He  was  a  frail  coal-black  little  nigger,  slightly 
deformed,  who  went  by  the  name  of  Hunch — in 
fact  he  never  knew  any  other.  He  had  a  sweet, 
pathetic  voice  and  was  the  acknowledged  leader 
in  the  plantation  songs  and  a  great  favorite  with 
all  the  darkies  as  well  as  with  many  of  the 
whites,  and  especially  so  with  his  young  master, 
Charley  Sharp. 

He  did  little  chores  around  the  house  and 
barns,  but  was  scarcely  strong  enough  for  the 
heavier  work  of  the  fields.  All  the  old  planta 
tions  had  large  stables  well  filled  with  the  finest 
and  fastest  horses  obtainable,  as  it  was  the  custom 
in  those  days  to  have  races  at  the  County  and 
State  Fairs  for  purses  of  no  small  amount,  for 
single-mile  dashes,  the  two  best  in  three  to  win. 
The  love  of  the  sport  was  universal  and  genuine, 
and  each  vied  with  his  neighbor  in  owning  and 
rearing  the  finest  and  swiftest  strains. 

One  of  the  old  planters  had  a  beautiful 
daughter;  the  other  two  each  had  a  son.  These 
three  had  grown  up  together  to  womanhood  and 
manhood  just  under  the  lea  of  those  grand  old 
Virginia  mountains. 


IN    THE    DAYS    OF   SLAVERY  213 

Helen  Strong  was  the  belle  of  the  region,  and 
her  hand  was  sought  in  marriage  by  many  of  the 
eligible  young  men  in  the  neighborhood.  But  to 
all,  excepting  Charley  Sharp  and  Allen  Parks, 
the  two  planters'  sons,  she  turned  a  deaf  ear. 

Between  these  it  was  a  difficult  matter  to 
decide ;  she  admired  them  both.  She  longed  for 
some  solution  of  the  matter  without  being  respon 
sible  for  the  decision ;  she  knew  that  great  rivalry 
and  jealousy  existed  between  them  for  they 
avoided  meeting  each  other  at  her  home.  Finally, 
one  night  there  was  a  chance  encounter  out  on 
the  road  and  the  two  young  men  then  and  there 
decided  to  settle  their  differences  by  fighting  a 
duel. 

In  some  unaccountable  way  Helen  heard  of 
this,  and  she  knew  the  time  had  arrived  when  her 
choice  must  be  quickly  made  or  the  odium  of  the 
unhappy  affair  would  rest  upon  her. 

She  thought  Allen  Parks  was  the  brighter  and 
more  interesting  of  the  two.  He  was  tall  and 
handsome,  with  a  somewhat  haughty  mien,  and 
he  made  a  finer  appearance  in  society  than 
Charley  Sharp.  Then  her  thoughts  dwelt  on 
Charley's  quiet  manners,  kindly  face  and  loving, 
tender  eyes.  She  knew  he  was  the^Jaer&et-  liked 

•/^S***^\ 

(    UNIVERSITY   | 


214  A    HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

by  every  one.  But  Allen  Parks'  showy  manners 
had  their  attractions,  nevertheless,  and  between 
these  two  fires  the  conscientious  girl  became 
almost  distracted ;  she  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
In  desperation  she  wrote  each  one  a  note,  saying 
that  she  would  never  marry  a  man  whose  hands 
were  stained  with  a  drop  of  human  blood  shed  in 
such  a  cause,  but  that  she  would  marry  the  one 
who  owned  the  horse  which  should  win  the  race 
at  the  next  Fall  State  Fair.  In  her  simplicity 
she  never  dreamed  for  one  moment  that  the 
matter  would  become  public. 

The  offer  proved  agreeable  to  Allen  Parks — 
the  most  aggressive  lover  of  the  two — for  he 
believed,  and  it  was  generally  conceded,  that  he 
had  the  fastest  horse  in  the  country. 

Helen  was  aware  of  this,  but  thought  that  per 
haps  was  an  easier  way  for  her  to  do  than  to 
pain  either  by  a  direct  refusal — from  which  it  may 
be  gathered  that  the  young  lady  was  as  yet  mis 
tress  of  her  own  affections. 

At  first  she  wanted  Allen  Parks  to  win;  but 
when  he  held  her  promise  in  writing  to  marry  the 
one  who  should  be  successful  in  the  race,  he  felt 
so  sure  of  her  that  his  natural  arrogance  began  to 
assert  itself,  and  among  other  things  he  demanded 


IN   THE    DAYS    OF    SLAVERY  215 

that  she  should  not  receive  Charley  Sharp's  atten 
tions.  She  coolly  replied  to  him,  "When  you 
have  won  the  race  I  will  grant  your  request,  not 
before." 

"I  shall  win,"  he  responded,  "and  then  you 
will  pay  for  your  insult  to  me,  Mademoiselle!" 

This  was  too  much  for  Helen,  and  a  spirit  of 
resentment  rose  high  within  her.  "What  right 
had  he  to  speak  so?"  she  asked  herself  over  and 
over.  Then  her  thoughts  wandered,  in  spite  of 
herself,  to  Charley  Sharp.  Might  it  not  be  pos 
sible  for  his  horse  to  be  trained  to  win  the  race? 
Would  she  he  glad  if  it  should  win  ?  Something 
whispered,  "Yes!  a  thousand  times  his,  rather 
than  the  other's ! "  As  the  days  wore  on  and  she 
realized  the  difference  between  the  two  men  she 
became  excited  and  nervous.  She  began  to  under 
stand  the  mistake  she  had  made. 

There  was  no  one  in  whom  she  could  confide, 
and  as  the  time  drew  nearer  she  seemed  to  be  so 
consumed  with  anxiety  that  one  evening  when 
Charley  Sharp  called  he  took  her  by  the  hand 
and  said,  "  Helen,  I  have  been  watching  you 
lately,  and  you  do  not  seem  to  be  like  yourself. 
Are  you  worrying  over  the  matter?"  Helen's 
color  came  and  went,  but  she  managed  to  say, 


216  A    HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

"No,  Charley."  She  could  not  tell  him,  of  all 
men;  but  his  kind  consideration,  and  perhaps 
something  else  showing  in  his  honest  eyes,  only 
made  her  the  more  anxious  for  him  to  win. 

Both  suitors  had  training-tracks  upon  their 
plantations.  It  was  now  Mid-Summer  and  the 
training  of  their  horses  began  in  earnest,  as  the 
race  was  to  take  place  in  the  Fall. 

Allen  Parks'  horse,  "Starlight,"  was  tall,  high- 
headed,  nervous  and  mettlesome,  and  generally 
thought  to  be  the  fastest  horse  in  the  State. 

Charley  Sharp's  horse,  "Mobile,"  was  con 
sidered  the  most  beautiful  horse  in  all  that  section. 

Both  men  had  engaged  expert  white  trainers 
in  the  hope  of  getting  more  speed  out  of  their 
animals  than  ever  before. 

Little  Hunch  had  heard  of  the  race  and  of  the 
prize  that  was  to  go  to  the  winner,  and  when  he 
saw  the  "white  trash,"  as  he  called  the  trainer, 
come  along  to  ride  Mobile  he  felt  almost 
broken-hearted,  for  he  dearly  loved  his  young 
master  and  had  always  ridden  his  races.  Some 
times  he  won  and  sometimes  he  lost.  He  was 
as  sharp  as  a  tack  and  he  said  to  himself,  "  Marse 
Sharp  'fraid  to  risk  me,  but  I'll  jes'  show  'im  an' 
dat  white  trash  dah  ain't  no  flies  on  dis  nigger, 


IN    THE    DAYS    OF   SLAVERY  217 

an'  I'll  win  dis  race,  To'  Gord  I  will!  Marse 
Charley  lubs  Missy  Helen,  an'  I'll  show  white 
trash  what  dis  nigger  can  do!" 

He  was  a  faithful  little  darkey  and  he  felt  grieved 
to  have  his  master  turn  him  down  in  the  most 
important  race  of  his  life. 

Some  years  prior  to  the  events  we  have  been 
narrating  old  planter  Sharp  had  attended  a  horse 
sale.  He  had  the  misfortune,  as  he  at  that  time 
thought,  of  having  knocked  down  to  him  a 
homely  looking  colt.  He  just  bid  on  the  colt  to 
help  a  friend  out,  never  dreaming  for  a  moment 
that  he  would  get  it,  especially  at  such  a  low 
figure.  But  he  did,  and  he  never  liked  the  colt 
because  he  was  compelled  to  take  him,  and  so 
he  put  him  in  the  plow  younger  than  was  his 
usual  custom  with  horses  of  his  own  raising. 
When  the  new  acquisition  was  first  brought  to 
the  plantation  little  Hunch  took  charge  of  him; 
it  appeared  to  be  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight 
between  the  darkey  and  the  colt.  Hunch  named 
him  "  Little  Ben,"  and  he  would  steal  and  lie 
for  the  colt  while,  as  far  as  other  things  were 
concerned,  he  was  generally  honest  and  truthful. 
He  would  take  the  cleanest  straw  for  his  bedding 
and  the  best  hay  and  grain  to  feed  him. 


218  A    HORSE-RACE    FOR   A    WIFE 

Little  Ben  was  a  quiet,  intelligent  colt  dark 
bay  in  color,  with  large,  sad  looking  eyes  set  wide 
apart  in  his  broad  forehead,  long  bodied,  with 
legs  flat  and  strong  and  straight  as  a  tightly 
drawn  line,  and  with  well  formed  hips  and 
shoulders  to  match.  His  head  was  large,  neck 
short  and  thick,  but  what  he  lacked  in  beauty  he 
fully  made  up  in  intelligence.  All  Hunch's  spare 
time  was  spent  with  his  pet  colt. 

Many  a  time  he  was  heard  holding  a  one-sided 
conversation  with  Little  Ben  out  in  the  stable. 
They  had  been  together  so  much  that  the  colt 
appeared  to  understand  him.  He  was  often  seen 
fishing  out  of  his  ragged  pants'  pockets  with  his 
black  monkey-like  hands  dirty  crusts  of  bread,  or 
an  apple,  which  he  gave  to  the  little  horse;  and 
many  a  time  when  his  master  was  not  around  he 
would  steal  out  to  the  training-track  and  put  his 
pet  through  his  paces. 

When  the  horse  was  about  four  years  old  the 
old  master  ordered  him  to  be  put  in  the  plow. 
This  nearly  broke  the  poor  little  darkey's  heart. 
He  would  follow  him  to  the  fields  and  pull  grass 
from  the  fence  corners,  bringing  it  to  him,  and 
would  carry  him  water  from  the  brook.  Little 
Ben  always  welcomed  his  friend  with  a  peculiar 


IN    THE    DAYS    OF   SLAVERY  219 

whinney,  as  though  expecting  some  tempting 
morsel.  He  was  a  willing  colt  and  the  darkies 
noticed  that  his  single-tree  in  the  plow  was 
always  a  little  ahead  of  any  horse  he  worked 
with,  and  he  soon  became  a  general  favorite  with 
all  the  negroes  on  the  plantation. 

Little  Ben  was  now  six  years  old,  and  the  hard 
straw  collar  had  worn  the  mane  off  of  his  neck 
where  it  rested,  and  the  rough  iron  plow  chains 
had  see-sawed  on  his  sides  till  there  was  no  hair 
where  they  rubbed. 

One  night  Charley  Sharp  happened  to  be  in 
the  barn  late,  brooding  over  the  matter  which 
rested  so  heavily  on  his  heart,  when  he  heard  a 
voice.  It  appeared  to  come  from  Ben's  stall,  so 
he  crept  noiselessly  in  that  direction,  and  sure 
enough,  the  little  darkey  was  holding  communion 
with  his  equine  friend. 

"  I  jes'  guess  yo'  done  plow  'bout  nuff;  yo' 
doan'  do  dat  no  mo'.  We  gwine  fix  dis  race  so 
dat  po'  gal  doan'  cry  her  heart  out  no  mo';  an'  po' 
Marse  Charley  looks  if  he  neber  smile  'gin. 
Fo'  long  I  jes'  has  to  tell  him  'bout  suffin'  we 
knows  'bout." 

The  peroration  ended  with  a  low  command, 
accompanied  by  the  rattle  of  a  plow  chain,  and 


220  A   HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

the  sound  of  what  appeared  to  be  the  horse's  feet 
executing  some  kind  of  a  double  shuffle. 

The  young  man's  curiosity  was  aroused.  What 
in  the  very  mischief  could  the  little  darkey  be 
doing?  He  moved  so  as  to  get  a  better  view. 
Hunch  heard  his  step,  and  the  exhibition  or 
whatever  it  was  came  to  an  abrupt  termination. 

Now  Charley  Sharp  had  made  up  his  mind  that 
the  prospect  of  winning  his  bride,  if  it  depended 
upon  Mobile,  was  gloomy  in  the  extreme.  His 
greatest  efforts  and  those  of  his  trainer  had  failed 
to  develop  the  speed  he  expected,  while  from 
time  to  time  rumors  were  circulated  of  the  almost 
miraculous  performances  of  Starlight.  It  was 
small  wonder  if  despondency  and  hopelessness 
seized  him  in  a  grasp  it  was  impossible  to  shake 
off. 

He  approached  the  stall  and  looked  over. 
Nothing  unusual  was  to  be  seen.  He  spoke  to 
Hunch  and  then  patted  the  animal.  What  was 
this?  The  horse's  sleek  coat  was  covered  with 
a  profuse  perspiration. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  to  Ben,  Hunch?" 
he  asked. 

But  Hunch's  plans  were  not  quite  ready  yet  to 
be  revealed,  so  he  answered  readily  enough: 


IN   THE    DAYS    OF    SLAVERY  221 

"Nuffin',  sah,  nuffin';  Ben  got  little  cramp;  I 
rubbin'  him  down,"  and  he  briskly  suited  the 
action  to  the  word. 

Charley  turned  away,  but  Hunch  followed  him; 
there  was  evidently  something  on  his  mind,  and 
he  didn't  know  exactly  how  to  set  about  unbur 
dening  himself.  Finally  he  spoke : 

"  Marse  Charley,  dat  hoss  ob  yours,  he  ain't  no 
account." 

This  was  so  palpably  the  truth,  if  he  was  refer 
ring  to  Mobile,  that  Charley  thought  it  useless  to 
answer. 

After  a  moment  the  darkey  summoned  up  cour 
age  and  again  returned  to  the  attack : 

"Marse  Char  ley,  I  say  dat  hoss  Mobile  he  ain't 
no  account  nohow!" 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"'Kase  I  done  watch 'im — watch 'im  close.  He 
no  good  'gainst  Starlight."  Then,  getting  closer 
to  his  master  and  looking  up  into  his  face,  "  Marse 
Charley,  tell  Hunch  one  ting — yo'  want  win  dis 
race?  Yo'  want  'im  so  bad  de  sun  he  dark  fo' 
eber  mo'  yo'  lose?" 

Good  Heavens!  what  was  the  boy  driving  at? 
The  question,  simple  at  it  was,  had  pierced  a  fes 
tering  sore  in  his  heart,  and  his  only  response  was 


222  A    HORSE-RACE    FOR   A   WIFE 

a  groan,  but  it  was  sufficient  answer  for  Hunch, 
who  proceeded : 

"Fo'  Gord,  Marse  Charley,  fo'  Gord,  sah,  yo' 
shall  win  'im;  yo'  shall  fo'  shuah!" 

The  man  turned  almost    fiercely  on  the    boy. 

"What  do  you  mean?  What  do  you  know 
about  it  anyhow?" 

"  Nuffin',  sah,  nuffin';  I  doan'  know  nuffin'. 
Missy  Helen  she  bin  mighty  good  to  some  po' 
darkies;  I  like  do  suffin'  fo'  her." 

"You  say,  Hunch,  Miss  Helen  was  kind  to 
you?" 

"Yes,  sah;  I  rode  ole  Tom,  de  big  team  hoss, 
ober  dar  to  borrow  a  bridle  fo'  ole  Marse  Sharp, 
an'  ole  Tom  step  on  my  byah  foot  an  mash  it 
awful  bad,  an'  Missy  Helen  come  right  out  her 
self  an'  put  suffin'  on  it  an'  tied  'im  up.  She 
awful  good  to  me,  Marse  Charley,  an'  I  fou't 
mebbe  sometime  I  could  do  suffin'  fo'  hur." 

This  kindness  to  the  little  darkey  showed 
another  side  of  Helen's  character  to  him  and  he 
loved  her  more  than  ever. 

Hunch  had  now  found  out  all  he  wanted  to 
know  from  his  young  master;  his  next  move  was 
to  take  Little  Ben  from  the  plow  as  he  had 
promised  the  horse  he'd  do. 


IN   THE   DAYS   OF   SLAVERY  223 

That  night  Hunch  was  seen  to  go  to  the  door 
of  his  old  master's  house.  He  placed  his  hand 
upon  the  latch  and  then  withdrew  it,  as  though 
undecided  whether  to  enter  or  not.  The  master, 
hearing  someone  outside,  called,  "Who's  there?" 

"  Little  Hunch,  Massa  Sharp,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,  Hunch,  what  do  you  want?"  the  master 
inquired. 

"Massa  Sharp,  I  wants  to  tell  you  suffin'  awful 
bad."  Hunch  all  this  time  was  opening  the  door 
very  slowly  and  getting  a  little  nearer  to  the  lie 
he  was  going  to  tell. 

"Why  don't  you  come  in,  you  black  rascal? 
Come  in,  I  say!" 

"Well,  Massa,  I'se  a  comin'  an'  I  wants  to  tell 
you  suffin'  awful  bad." 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Hunch?     Out  with  it." 

"Well,  Massa  Sharp,  fo'  Gord!  Little  Ben  is 
de  lamest  hoss  you  eber  se,  an'  I  fou't  you'd  like 
to  know  it." 

"Oh,  blast  that  infernal  plug!"  the  old  man 
shouted,  walking  up  and  down.  "I'll  sell  him 
to-morrow  before  the  sun  goes  down!" 

This  was  an  unexpected  termination  of  his 
well-laid  plans,  and  the  little  darkey  almost  turned 
white.  He  left  the  old  man's  room  with  a  heavy 


224  A    HORSE-RACE    FOR    A    WIFE 

heart  and  skulked  off  down  the  walk,  "  Little 
Ben's  no  plug;  he  got  more  sense  dis  bery  min 
ute  den  ole  Massa  Sharp  has  an'  I'll  show  some 
ob  dem  high-toned  plugs  yet  he  can  outrun  dem, 
wid  de  po'  white  trash  on  dey  back.  Let  'im 
sen'  a  hoss  buyer  out  here  to  buy  Little  Ben  and 
he'll  be  de  lamest  hoss  dey  eber  seen." 

Sure  enough,  old  planter  Sharp  went  to  town 
the  next  day  and  sent  out  a  horse  buyer  to  look 
at  Little  Ben.  He  told  the  buyer  the  horse  was 
slightly  lame  but  otherwise  he  was  all  right,  and 
if  he  wanted  to  buy  him  he  could  have  him  for 
fifty  dollars. 

Hunch  did  not  know  that  any  definite  proposi 
tion  had  been  made  to  anyone  for  the  sale  of  the 
horse,  but  he  proposed  that,  if  any  would-be  pur 
chaser  did  arrive,  Hunch,  and  no  one  else  should 
be  the  one  to  show  the  animal.  Accordingly,  he 
watched  every  avenue  of  approach  to  the  house, 
and  waylaying  the  unsuspecting  man  before  he 
had  an  opportunity  to  see  the  overseer,  or  any 
other  authorized  person,  conducted  him  to  the 
stables. 

The  buyer  came  and  when  he  was  nearing  the 
barn  he  spied  little  Hunch  and  called  to  him  to 
come  and  show  him  the  lame  horse  that  his  old 


IN   THE    DAYS    OF    SLAVERY  225 

master  had  sent  him  out  to  buy  for  fifty  dollars. 
Little  Hunch  approached  the  stable  with  unsteady 
steps  for  fear  Little  Ben  would  fail  to  perform 
his  part  of  the  programme,  as  he  had  planned. 

As  the  young  schemer  opened  the  stable  door 
he  walked  directly  behind  Ben  to  where  there 
was  a  chain  plow  harness  hanging  on  a  pin. 

Hunch  said  to  the  buyer,  "Dis  is  de  harness 
wot  de  hoss  use'  to  work  in  fo'  he  got  too  lame," 
and  so  saying  he  grasped  the  plow  chains  and 
gave  them  a  resounding  rattle.  At  the  same 
time  he  passed  quickly  into  the  stall  and  released 
the  halter  strap ;  then  in  backing  out  he  managed 
to  forcibly  collide  with  the  chains  again,  and 
sent  them  banging  against  the  wall. 

Sure  enough  Little  Ben  came  limping  out  of 
the  stall  as  if  he  were  the  most  decrepit  old  horse 
on  earth.  Hunch  chuckled  gleefully. 

"Which  leg  is  he  lame  in?"  the  buyer  inquired. 

"In  boff  of  dem,"  Hunch  quickly  responded, 
at  the  same  time  giving  the  chains  another  rattle. 
True  to  his  training  Little  Ben  changed  his  tac 
tics  and  began  hobbling  around  on  another  foot. 

The  man  looked  the  horse  over,  then  pulled  out 
a  piece  of  money  and  gave  it  to  the  boy.  "  Now, 
my  lad,  you  know  all  about  this  horse?" 


226  A   HORSE-RACE    FOR   A   WIFE 

"Yes  sah,"  Hunch  replied. 

"Then  tell  me  exactly  what  is  the  matter  with 
him."  The  buyer  evidently  had  a  kind  of  sus 
picion  that  the  old  planter  was  trying  to  cheat 
him. 

"  If  I  tells  yo'  an'  Massa  Sharp  foun'  it  out 
dere  would  be  a  nigger  fun'ral  on  dis  plantation, 
and  dis  'ere  nigger  would  be  at  de  head  ob  de 
procession  to  de  grabe." 

"Then  you  mean  to  tell  me  the  horse  is  of  no 
use?"  "No  sah,"  Hunch  replied,  at  the  same 
time  looking  anxiously  around  to  see  if  Ben  had 
noticed  what  was  being  said  of  him.  Then  Hunch 
went  to  the  door,  glanced  up  and  down  to  be  sure 
no  one  was  within  hearing,  and  then  beckoned 
the  buyer  away  back  to  a  secluded  spot  in  the 
barn. 

When  they  had  reached  a  place  which  Hunch 
thought  safe  from  other  ears  he  said,  "Massa! 
dis  nigger  am  de  biggest  liar  on  dis  plantation  if 
dat  hoss  doan'  hab  fits." 

The  buyer  gave  the  darkey  another  piece  of 
money,  for  he  thought  that  he  had  saved  him  from 
being  swindled,  and  with  a  promise  to  Hunch  not 
to  tell  anyone,  he  went  away,  saying  uncompli 
mentary  things  about  one  who  would  try  to  sell  a 
horse  that  had  fits. 


IN   THE    DAYS    OF    SLAVERY 


Now  the  intense  earnestness  of  the  darkey 
when  he  assured  his  master  that  he  should  win 
the  race  had  deeply  impressed  the  young  man. 
He  could  not  fathom  the  negro's  meaning,  but 
he  resolved  to  watch  his  performances  with  the 
horse  in  the  hopes  that  perhaps  something  might 
transpire  to  brighten  his  prospects.  It  so  happened 
that  the  disappointed  buyer  had  hardly  ridden 
away  when  young  Sharp  entered  the  stable. 
Hunch  and  his  four-footed  friend  were  indulging 
in  manifestations  of  joy — at  least  Hunch  was, 
and  we  will  have  to  suppose,  from  his  actions,  that 
the  horse  was  equally  interested.  Neither  per 
ceived  the  presence  of  the  third  party.  Hunch, 
armed  with  a  pair  of  old  plow  chains,  was  walking 
proudly  back  and  forth,  the  horse  at  his  heels. 
Suddenly  there  would  be  a  sharp  rattle  of  the 
chains — the  horse  would  limp  as  though  a  leg 
were  broken;  another  rattle — the  limp  would  be 
changed  to  some  other  foot ;  a  swing  of  the  arm 
— the  horse  went  on  his  knees,  or  perhaps  up  in 
the  air  pirouetting  on  his  hind  feet.  Then  there 
would  be  a  period  of  rest,  during  which  Hunch 
would  embrace  the  animal  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight 
and  Little  Ben's  nose  would  inevitably  search  out 
the  reward  lying  hidden  within  the  ragged  depths 
of  Hunch's  pockets. 


228  A    HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

To  say  that  Sharp  was  astonished  at  what  he 
saw  would  but  mildly  express  his  feelings.  Was 
it  possible  that  the  negro  had  some  secret  in 
connection  with  the  horse?  It  was  at  best  but 
the  proverbial  straw.  Still,  the  darkey  might 
know  of  something  important,  and  as  he  had 
vowed  that  he  should  win  the  race,  Sharp  resolved 
to  await  developments  with  what  patience  he 
might. 

As  the  horse  buyer  did  not  purchase  Little 
Ben,  and  as  the  old  planter  was  to  be  away  for 
several  days,  Hunch  thought  that  he  had  better 
improve  the  opportunity.  He  had  succeeded  in 
scaring  one  buyer  off  but  he  might  not  be  so 
successful  with  the  next,  and  he  knew  he  must 
do  something  at  once. 

To  tell  his  young  master  that  he  had  stolen  his 
horse  out  one  moonlight  night  and  run  him 
against  Little  Ben,  and  that  Little  Ben  had 
beaten  him  would  have  been  the  height  of  folly. 
He  knew  his  young  master's  pride  would  not 
admit  of  his  either  listening  to  or  believing  it  for 
one  moment.  He  knew  he  must  confide  in  some 
one,  but  not  in  his  master.  Then  he  thought  of 
Miss  Helen,  of  how  kind  she  had  been  to  him. 
If  she  loved  his  young  master  he  would  find  it 
out  and  then  tell  her  his  plans. 


IN   THE    DAYS    OF   SLAVERY  220 

So  one  evening  he  slipped  away  over  to  Miss 
Helen's,  muttering  as  he  went,  "Little  Ben  a 
plug!  fifty  dollars  fo'  a  hoss  dats  got  mo'  sense 
dan  ole  Massa  Sharp  has!"  When  he  arrived  at 
the  Strong  plantation  Helen  was  standing  on 
the  porch;  she  seemed  to  be  lost  in  gloomy 
thoughts. 

At  the  approach  of  little  Hunch  she  went  down 
to  the  gate  to  meet  him,  for  she  thought  that 
possibly  he  had  a  note  for  her  or  some  word  from 
Charley  Sharp — at  least  she  hoped  so. 

Hunch  felt  guilty  of  doing  something  wrong 
and  he  approached  very  slowly,  hardly  knowing 
how  to  open  the  conversation  or  to  lead  up  to  the 
point  he  had  in  view.  Finally  Helen  called  to 
him,  "Hurry  up,  Hunch!" 

"  She  finks  I  done  got  a  note  fo'  her,  I  guess," 
thought  Hunch.  He  had  upon  more  than  one 
occasion  been  the  bearer  of  missives  between  the 
two. 

"She  mus'  lub  'im  o'  she  wouldn't  want  me  to 
hurry  up  wid  de  note;  or  mebbe  dat  Starlight 
feller  is  in  dar  an'  she  wants  to  git  de  note  out 
here." 


230  A   HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

"  Hunch,  got  a  note  for  me?"  she  asked,  just 
a  little  impatiently. 

"No,  Missy  Helen." 

"Anything    happened,  Hunch? 

"No,  Missy  Helen." 

"Then  what  do  you  want  here?" 

"I  wants  to  tell  you  suffin',  Missy  Helen." 

There  was  something  so  disconsolate  about  the 
tone  of  Hunch's  voice  that  the  young  lady 
immediately  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
must  concern  the  only  person  in  whom  she  was 
interested.  Stepping  quickly  up  to  him  she 
said: 

"Hunch,  tell   me  at   once  what  it  is." 

With  his  coal-black  eyes  fixed  on  her  face  in 
solemn  gaze,  Hunch  asked,  "Does  you  lub  Marse 
Charley,  Missy  Helen?" 

"Oh!  yes,  Hunch,  I  do.  What  has  happened 
to  him?"  she  moaned. 

"Well,  den  if  yo'  lub  him  doan'  yo'  cry,  Missy 
Helen;  he'll  win  the  race." 

"  How  do  you  know  he  will  ?    Did  he  send  you?" 

"No,  Missy  Helen,  he  doan'  know  I  come; 
I  wants  to  tell  yo'  suffin',  Missy  Helen." 


IN    THE    DAYS    OF    SLAVERY  231 

By  this  time  Helen  had  worked  herself  up  to 
a  high  pitch  of  excitement  and  she  demanded  to 
know  his  mission  at  once.  But  it  was  not  until 
she  had  promised  that  she  would  in  no  event 
reveal  the  secret  to  Master  Charley  until  Hunch 
should  give  his  consent,  that  this  worthy  pro 
ceeded,  "Well,  Missy  Helen,  I  wants  to  borrow 
fifty  dollars."  This  so  surprised  Helen  that  she 
laughed  outright. 

"I  loan    you  fifty   dollars?" 

Hunch  replied,  "I  will  pay  yo'  back  'fo  de  Fair 
come  off  shuh,  its  not  'fo  long." 

Helen  thought  a  moment  and  she  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  darkey  must  know  of  some 
thing  favorable  to  her  and  his  young  master  or 
he  would  not  have  made  such  an  extraordinary 
request.  She  knew  Hunch  was  as  faithful  as  he 
was  black.  Perhaps  the  laugh  grated  on  the 
negro's  tender  susceptibilities;  at  any  rate  he  took 
it  as  a  denial  and  turned  away.  As  he  did  so  he 
suddenly  seemed  to  realize  all  the  loan  meant  to 
him ;  he  would  lose  his  pet  horse  and  his  young 
master  something  of  far  greater  value.  It 
was  too  much  for  poor  Hunch,  and  he  burst  into 


232  A    HORSE-RACE    FOR    A    WIFE 

tears.  Helen  called  to  him,  "Hunch  if  I  loan  you 
the  fifty  dollars,  will  you  pay  me  back  sure  ? " 

"Shuh,  Missy  Helen,  To  de  Fair  comes  off.  " 

"  If  I  let  you  have  it,  will  you  tell  me  what  you 
are  going  to  do  with  it  ?" 

Hunch,  his  face  beaming  with  delight  at  the 
change  in  his  fortunes,  said  that  he  would.  She 
went  into  the  house  and  soon  returned  with  the 
money,  saying  as  she  gave  it  to  him,  "Now, 
Hunch,  you  hold  some  kind  of  a  secret,  and  I 
believe  it  interests  me." 

"Yes,  Missy,  it  does.  You  see,  Missy  Helen, 
ole  Massa  Sharp  want  to  sell  Little  Ben  'fo  fifty 
dollars,  an'  he  had  a  hoss  buyer  ober  dar  an' 
I  tole  'im  de  hoss  was  lame  an'  he  didn't  took  'im, 
an'  I  wants  to  gib  de  money  to  ole  Massa  Sharp 
an'  tell  'im  de  man  will  come  fo'  de  hoss  after 
de  Fair  am  ober." 

"Hunch,  what  on  earth  are  you  going  to  do 
with  that  plug  at  the  State  Fair,  where  all  the 
fastest  and  most  beautiful  horses  will  be?" 

"Missy  Helen,  please  doan'  call  Little  Ben  a 
plug.  Missy  Helen,  I  jes'  wants  to  ax  yo'  a 
question — do  yo'  lub  young  Marse  Charley?" 


IN   THE    DAYS    OF   SLAVERY  233 

"Yes,  Hunch,  with  all  my  heart;  but  what  is 
that  to  you,  Hunch?" 

"Well,  if  yo'  lubs  'im  I  wants  yo'  to  hab  'im, 
an'  dat  high-toned  plug  ob  his  will  neber  win  yo' 
at  de  race." 

"You  think  not?'1 

"  I  know  he  can't." 

"Well,  Hunch,  what  has  the  fifty  dollars  and 
Little  Ben  got  to  do  with  me  and  your  young 
master?" 

"Missy  Helen,  fo'  Gord!  Little  Ben  can  beat 
Starlight." 

"What!"  she  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  he  can." 

"How  do  you  know?"  Helen  inquired,  and  as 
she  thought  of  all  it  might  mean  to  her  she  began 
to  tremble  and  her  voice  choked. 

"Doan'  cry,  Missy  Helen,  Little  Ben  can  win 
de  race,  fo'  Gord  he  can." 

"Tell  me,  how  do  you  know  this?" 

"Listen,  den,  doan'  tell  anyone  now,  will  yo'?" 

"  No,  I  won't,  Hunch,"  Helen  promised.  She 
was  willing  enough  to  make  any  promise,  for  she 
knew  from  what  Charley  Sharp  had  told  her  that 


234  A   HORSE-RACE   FOR   A  WIFE 

his  horse  had  not  developed  the  speed  he 
expected  he  would  have  done  under  a  professional 
trainer  and  rider. 

"Well,  Missy  Helen,  I  know'd  Marse  Sharp's 
horse  was  slo'  on  de  track,  fo'  I  watched  'im,  an' 
one  moonlight  night  when  Marse  Sharp  was  ober 
har  I  stole  de  high-toned  plug  out,  and  I  rode  'im 
an'  anudder  nigger  rode  Little  Ben.  We  took 
dem  out  on  de  track  an'  got  an  eben  start,  an' 
jes'  laid  de  whip  on  de  high-toned  plug,  but  de 
nigger  on  Little  Ben  he  jes'  said,  'Hur'y  up,  Little 
Ben,  hur'y  up ! '  and  yo'  ought  to  see  Little  Ben 
run  'way  from  dat  fine  trained  hoss  jes'  like  he 
was  standin'  still." 

This  was  bad  news  for  Helen,  for  she  knew 
Starlight  was  a  very  fast  horse,  and  the  thought 
of  a  plug  horse  beating  him  never  crossed  her 
mind.  Suppose  that  Little  Ben  had  beaten 
Mobile,  it  would  not  prove  that  he  could  beat 
Starlight. 

"Now,  Missy  Helen,"  Hunch  continued, "please 
doan'  tell  my  Marse  Charley,  fo'  he's  too  proud 
to  let  Little  Ben  run  in  dat  race.  Don'  say  nuffin' 
till  I  shows  'im  dat  Little  Ben  has  de  speed." 


IN   THE   DAYS   OF   SLAVERY  235 

Helen  concluded  to  let  the  little  darkey  have 
his  way  and  see  what  the  result  would  be. 
Hunch  returned  home  light-hearted  enough,  for 
he  felt  sure  now  he  could  save  his  pet  horse  from 
being  sold  and  was  equally  sure  that  his  young 
master,  when  he  knew  of  Little  Ben's  speed, 
would  refund  the  fifty  dollars  to  Miss  Helen,  as 
he  had  promised  should  be  done  before  the  Fair. 
It  was  necessary  that  Charley  Sharp  should  own 
the  horse  which  he  entered  in  the  race.  He  felt 
sure  that  Little  Ben  would  be  the  winner,  but  he 
feared  he  would  have  some  trouble  with  his  old 
master  over  the  horse. 

The  next  morning  Hunch  was  up  bright  and 
early  and  watching  for  his  old  master  in  the 
yard — for  he  had  returned  the  night  before. 
Sure  enough,  as  Mr.  Sharp  saw  Hunch  he  said, 
"Well,  Hunch,  did  that  horse  buyer  take  that 
lame  plug?" 

"No,  Massa,"  Hunch  quickly  replied,  "he  did 
not,  but  anudder  man  did  an'  he  left  fifty  dollars 
wid  me  to  gib  yo'  an'  he  said  he'd  call  in  a  week 
or  two  an'  tek  'im  'way."  Then  Hunch  handed 
over  the  money.  The  old  man  looked  at  it,  then 


236  A   HORSE-RACE   FOR  A  WIFE 

at  Hunch,  in  a  suspicious  manner,  which  made 
the  darkey  feel  that  his  ruse  was  discovered. 

His  master  said,  "What  kind  of  a  looking  man 
was  it  who  bought  the  horse?" 

The  question  stunned  Hunch  for  a  minute,  but 
he  recovered  quickly  and  replied,  "Dat  man 
didn't  look  like  de  man  dat  come  furst  fo*  de 
hoss." 

"Well,  then,  who  did  he  look  like?" 

"  I  doan'  know,  Massa;  he  look  like  he  wanted 
de  hoss,  or  he  wouldn't  leff  de  money  fo'  yo'." 

"Was  he  a  horse  buyer?" 

"Well,  he  bought  dat  one,  but  he  didn't  ax  if 
yo'  had  any  mo'  to  sell." 

"Well,  I'm  really  glad  that  plug  is  sold  off  my 
hands,  and  here's  a  dollar,  Hunch,  for  you  making 
the  sale,  but  see  that  the  plug  is  here  no  longer 
than  two  weeks  on  this  plantation." 

"  I  will,  Massa  Sharp,"  and  Hunch  skipped  off 
to  the  barn  to  tell  Little  Ben  all  about  it.  He 
fully  believed  the  horse  understood  all  that  he 
said  to  him,  for  he  possessed  almost  human  intel 
ligence,  and  Hunch  had  been  with  him  every 
moment  that  he  could  for  four  years. 


IN   THE    DAYS   OF   SLAVERY  237 

Charley  Sharp  happened  to  be  in  the  stable  as 
Hunch  entered,  and  in  the  expectation  that 
perhaps  another  trick  performance  would  occur, 
secreted  himself  to  await  developments. 

Little  Hunch  entered  the  barn  with  a  half 
cakewalk  and  a  shuffle,  saying,  "I'll  show  dem 
po'  white  trash  dey  can't  come  down  in  ole  Vir- 
ginny  an'  tell  us  niggers  nuffin'  'bout  hoss-racin'; 
an'  if  I  can  get  Marse  Charley  to  leab  me  go  on 
de  track  wid  Little  Ben  an'  run  wid  dat  high- 
tone  plug  o'  his  we'll  make  soup  grease  out  ob 
dat  po'  white  trash  dat  rides  de  hoss  fo'  'im. 
If  I  beat  'im  den  I  runs  de  race  fo'  Marse 
Charley  an'  wins  Miss  Helen  fo'  'im.  He  bin 
mighty  good  to  me  an'  I'll  win  dat  race  o'  dar'll 
be  one  ob  de  biggest  nigger  fun'rals  dat  eber 
was  in  ole  Virginny." 

Little  Hunch  by  this  time  had  got  to  where 
Little  Ben  stood,  and  as  the  horse  whinnied  his 
delight  at  his  approach  and  nosed  his  frowsy 
head  when  he  got  up  to  him,  Hunch  stroked  his 
mane  and  said,  "  Little  Ben,  yo'  jes'  'longs  to  me 
now;  ole  Massa  Sharp  has  got  de  money  fo'  yo 
and  yo'  plows  no  mo',  an'  if  I  takes  you  on  de 


238  A   HORSE-RACE    FOR   A   WIFE 

track  wid  any  high-tone  plug  an'  tells  yo'  to 
'Hur'y  up,  Little  Ben,  hur'y  up!'  yo'  must  hur'y  up 
quick  an'  win  de  race  or  yo'll  go  in  de  plow  agin." 

What  young  Sharp  had  heard  puzzled  him. 
"  Hunch  bought  the  horse  and  paid  for  him  ? 
Where  in  the  deuce  did  he  get  the  money?  And 
he  wants  to  run  that  old  scrub  against  my  beauti 
ful  horse?  Well,  he  seems  so  positive  I  think 
the  nigger  must  have  a  secret  of  some  kind  and 
I'll  find  it  out.  I  won't  let  him  know  I'm  here. 
I'll  slip  out,  and  take  him  out  on  the  track  with 
me  to-day  when  I  go,  and  see  what  there  is  in 
that  old  plug."  Charley  was  something  like 
Helen — he  was  willing  enough  to  try  anything 
now  to  win  the  race.  So  that  afternoon  when 
Hunch  met  his  young  master  at  the  stable  the 
latter  said,  "Well,  Hunch,  father  tells  me  that 
plug  you  claim  was  sold." 

"Yissah;  he  is." 

"Who  bought  him?" 

"Marse  Charley,  if  yo'll  lemme  run  ober  de 
track  to-day  wid  yo',  I'll  tell  yo'." 

"Do  you  think  that  old  plug  can  run?"  This 
nettled  Hunch.  Drawing  himself  up  with  all  the 


IN   THE   DAYS    OF   SLAVERY  239 

dignity  of  which  he  was  capable,  he  replied, 
"Marse  Charley,  fo'  Gord  he  can  beat  yo'  hoss, 
for  shuh  he  can!" 

"Preposterous!     What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"Will  yo'  lemme  run  wid  you?" 

"Yes,  Hunch,  get  ready  and  we'll  be  off  for  the 
track." 

"Hunch,"  his  young  master  asked  after  they 
had  mounted,  "where  were  you  last  night?" 

Hunch  thought  a  moment :  "  I  went  coon- 
huntin'  wid  de  Strong  niggers." 

"Did  you  see  Miss  Helen?" 

"Yis  sah." 

"Did  she  ask  about  me?" 

"Yis  sah.  She  axed  did  I  hab  a  note  fo'  hur 
from  yo'.  I  tole  her  no.  Marse  Charley,  she 
looked  so  good  stanin'  dar  in  de  moonlight,  an' 
de  man  in  de  moon  look  like  he  felt  so'ry  fo'  hur, 
an'  hur  eyes  jes'  look  like  two  stars  in  de  sky  wid 
little  white  clouds  flo'tin'  befo'  dem,  lettin' 
down  little  drops  ob  rain,  when  she  axed  me 
'bout  yo'." 

Young  Sharp  turned  his  head  so  that  the  little 
darkey  could  not  see  his  moistened  eyes. 


240  A    HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

The  two  had  now  arrived  at  the  training-track, 
and  Sharp  said,  "To-day  I  shall  lash  my  horse, 
and  that  means  I'll  put  on  the  whip  to  get  all  the 
speed  he  has  in  him,"  and  then  laughingly  added, 
"You  can  run  over  the  track  and  see  how  close 
you  can  keep  to  us,  but  I  won't  agree  to  wait 
anywhere  for  you  to  catch  up." 

"Marse  Charley,"  Hunch  replied,  "if  Little 
Ben  can't  beat  dat  high-tone  plug  ob  yo'rs  wid- 
out  layin'  on  de  whip,  den  de  man  won't  take 


im." 


"Hunch,  what  do  you  mean?  You  seem  to  be 
very  confident  Little  Ben  can  beat  Mobile." 

"Well,  I'm  not  sartin,  but  I  jes'  wants  to  see." 

As  they  toed  the  mark  for  a  start  his  young 
master  said,  "  Hunch,  wake  that  plug  up  before  I 
fire  the  shot  for  the  start." 

"Neber  mind  dat,  Marse  Charley,  he  ain't 
'sleep,  he  jes'  makes  b'lieve  he's  'sleep.  Yo'll  fin' 
'im  'wake  'nuf  to  beat  yo'r  high-toned  hoss  wid 
dat  po'  white  trash  on  his  back." 

Charley  fired  the  shot  and  off  they  went.  Little 
Ben,  apparently  without  exertion,  took  the  lead 
from  the  start.  To  Charley  Sharp's  great 


IN   THE   DAYS   OF   SLAVERY  241 

surprise,  his  horse  was  distanced  in  the  mile 
dash.  As  the  riders  returned  Charley  said, 
"  Well,  Hunch,  you  must  tell  me  how  you  knew 
that  you  could  outrun  my  horse." 

"Marse  Charley,  I  jes1  took  yo'  hoss  out  one 
moonlight  night  an'  run  'im  on  de  track  wid 
Little  Ben,  an'  I  rode  'im,  an'  he  done  better'n  he 
do  to-day." 

"  Hunch,  who  owns  that  horse  ?  " 

"I  do,"  was  the  quick  reply. 

'•  Now  Hunch,  where  did  you  get  the  money 
to  pay  for  him  ?  " 

Hunch  thought  for  a  moment,  "  Mebbe  de 
party  doan'  want  yo'  to  know.  Marse  Charley, 
you  go  an'  see  Missy  Helen  to-night;  she  knows 
who  lent  me  de  money." 

"Hunch,  did  Helen  Strong  lend  you  the 
money?" 

"  Yis  sah,  when  I  tole  her  I  stole  yo'  hoss  out 
an'  Little  Ben  beat  'im  she  loaned  me  de  money. 
She  doan'  want  to  marry  dat  highflier;  he's  so 
stiff  he'd  break  in  two  if  anybody  hit  'im  wid  a 
snowball,  an'  I  tink  he's  bin  mean  to  Missy 
Helen." 


242  A    HORSE-RACE   FOR   A  WIFE 

The  fact  that  Helen  had  advanced  the  money 
to  buy  the  horse  upon  the  faint  hope  that  by  some 
chance  he  might  possibly  win  showed  so  plainly 
where  her  wishes  lay  that  for  a  minute  young 
Sharp  was  speechless.  He  turned  his  back  on 
Hunch  and  walked  away.  Hunch  was  undecided 
as  to  whether  he  was  angry  or  not.  But  presently 
after  having  mastered  his  emotion,  he  returned 
and  simply  said: 

"  Well  Hunch,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do  now?'* 

"  I  wants  yo'  to  go  ober  an'  pay  Missy  Helen 
dat  fifty  dollars  to-night,  den  yo'  will  own  de  hoss 
an'  I  will  win  de  race  fo'  yo'  shuh,  Marse  Charley.'' 

That  night  Charley  went  over  to  see  Helen. 
There  was  much  he  wanted  to  say  to  her.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  the  episode  of  the  fifty 
dollars  was  the  first  real  intimation  he  had  ever 
received  of  the  actual  state  of  that  young  lady's 
feelings,  and  this  had  transpired  in  such  a  way 
that  it  was  evidently  intended  that  he  should  have 
no  knowledge  of  it  until  after  the  race  was  over. 
With  a  wisdom  born  of  his  regard  for  both, 
Hunch,  however,  had  let  out  the  secret,  and 
Charley's  whole  soul  longed  for  the  meeting.  He 


IN    THE    DAYS    OF   SLAVERY  243 

knew  there  could  be  no  reservation  between  them 
after  the  act  that  spoke  more  plainly  than 
words. 

The  fine  old  house  nestling  among  the  trees 
never  looked  more  beautiful  to  the  young  man 
than  on  that  evening.  The  glory  of  the  moon 
light  seemed  to  bathe  the  world  in  splendor,  and 
deep  down  in  his  heart  something  was  singing  in 
unison  with  it  all — something  that  made  him  a 
happier  and  a  better  man. 

A  long  shaft  of  mellow  light  pierced  the  trees 
just  by  the  gate  as  he  rode  up,  and  rested  upon  a 
slight  form  waiting  patiently  there.  Charley  knew 
intuitively  who  it  was.  The  words  he  had  intended 
to  say  flew  to  the  four  winds.  He  sprang  from 
his  horse  and  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  Helen 
forgot  the  days  and  nights  of  harrowing  anxiety ; 
forgot  the  ordeal  that  was  yet  to  come;  forgot, 
in  fact,  everything  in  the  world,  except  the  strong 
arms  which  were  around  her. 

After  a  time  they  came  back  to  mundane 
things.  Charley  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Sweetheart,"  he  said,  "  I  found  out  about  that 
fifty  dollars." 


244  A  HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

"  You  big  goosey !  I  knew  you  had  by  the  way 
you  jumped  off  your  horse." 

"And  I  want  to  thank  you.  I  don't  think  I 
shall  ever  forget  what  lay  behind  the  act.  Here 
is  the  money,  and  I  am  going  to  pay  an  interest 
on  the  loan  which  may  seem  out  of  all  propor 
tion."  And  he  proceeded  to  do  so. 

"  But  Charley,  what  do  you  think  of  Hunch's 
plan?  Is  it  at  all  probable  that  Little  Ben  has 
the  speed  he  claims  for  him?" 

"Well,"  the  young  man  said,  "of  course  it  is 
uncertain;  but  the  little  horse  is  a  wonder  to  me; 
he  shows  great  speed  and  superior  intelligence  as 
well.  I  raced  him  to-day  with  my  horse  and  he 
distanced  Mobile  without  an  effort,  I  will  admit, 
and  I  fully  believe  he  can  beat  Starlight/' 

At  that  Helen  clapped  her  hands  for  joy  and 
said,  "Are  you  sure  you  want  him  to  win?" 
She  looked  so  pleading  and  so  beautiful  that 
Charley  had  recourse  to  his  former  tactics,  which 
had  been  so  successful  in  sealing  her  lips;  then 
after  a  time,  looking  more  serious,  he  said,  "I 
would  give  the  world  to  have  him  win  you  for 
me.  But,  Helen,  shall  I  ask  you  to  be  won  by  a 


IN   THE    DAYS    OF    SLAVERY  245 

plow  horse,  and  a  homely  one  at  that,  with  the 
mane  worn  off  his  neck  where  the  old  straw 
collar  has  rested,  and  with  his  sides  chafed  bare 
where  he  has  worn  the  plow  chains?  It  does  not 
seem  right;  I  am  ashamed  to  enter  him  in  the 
race  against  such  a  beauty  as  Starlight,  with 
Parks'  splendid  equipment  for  his  horse  and 
rider.  I  don't  believe  Little  Ben  would  win  with 
anyone  riding  him  but  Hunch,  and  Hunch  will 
not  change  his  own  garb  or  put  anything  on  the 
horse  except  what  he  has  been  training  him  in  — 
a  flimsy  bridle  and  an  old,  dirty  surcingle  which 
I  discarded  long  ago;  Hunch  is  afraid  if  he  puts 
on  airs,  as  he  calls  it,  he  might  lose  the  race." 

Helen  sweetly  asked,  "Charley,  do  you  care 
enough  for  me  to  enter  a  horse  and  rider  which 
can  win  regardless  of  looks?" 

"Of  course  I  do,  but  I  don't  want  to  humiliate 
you." 

"  It  will  not  humiliate  me,"  she  said,  "  I  shall 
be  proud  to  sit  in  the  grand  stand  and  watch  the 
race.  Would  you  not  rather  lose  trying  than  lose 
not  trying?  If  you  win  you  will  save  me  from  a 
tyrant's  clutches.  Little  Hunch  loves  you,  Charley; 


246  A   HORSE-RACE    FOR   A   WIFE 

he  tells  me  you  have  been  so  kind  to  him,  and  he 
will  win,  I  feel  sure.  He  is  a  faithful  little  fellow, 
and  if  he  and  Little  Ben  win  they  must  be  cared 
for  all  the  rest  of  their  days." 

So  it  was  agreed  that  the  little  darkey  was  to 
have  full  charge  of  the  race,  to  win  or  to  lose. 

As  there  was  only  one  more  week  before  the 
momentous  event  it  was  decided  between  Helen 
and  Charley  that  this  would  be  the  last  time  they 
would  meet  until  after  the  race.  That  evening 
their  parting  was  one  which  neither  ever  forgot. 
Only  the  great  oak  under  which  they  stood  and 
the  bright  soft  moonlight  peeping  through  its 
branches  witnessed  the  mortal  agony  which 
wrung  these  two  loyal  hearts,  for  the  future  was 
dark  before  them. 

The  next  day  preparations  began  in  earnest  for 
the  race.  Sharp,  of  course,  kept  secret  the  horse 
he  was  going  to  enter,  as  he  thought  it  best  not 
to  let  it  be  known  until  the  animal  was  led  upon 
the  track. 

Finally  the  great  day  arrived.  Thousands 
gathered  from  far  and  near  to  witness  the  most 
novel  way  ever  known  to  decide  a  love  affair 


IN   THE   DAYS   OF  SLAVERY  247 

and  at  the  same  time  to  see  one  of  the  most 
hotly  contested  races  ever  witnessed,  as  in  this 
case  the  fastest  horse  was  sure  to  win,  and  it  had 
been  decided  by  the  judges  to  permit  but  two 
entries  in  the  race. 

There  were  many  comments  made  by  the 
people  before  the  horses  made  their  appearance 
relative  to  their  speed  and  beauty.  All  freely 
admitted  that  they  were  both  beautiful,  but  there 
could  be  but  one  conclusion  as  to  the  result  of  the 
race,  and  that  was  that  Starlight,  Allen  Parks' 
horse,  would  win,  unless  Mobile  had  increased 
very  much  in  speed  since  the  last  race. 

The  track  was  just  a  mile  around,  and  a  horse 
to  win  must  run  three  times  around,  or  three 
miles,  with  a  rest  after  each  mile,  winning  two 
heats  out  of  the  three. 

The  grand  stand  was  placed  some  three  hun 
dred  feet  back  toward  the  circle  of  the  track,  and 
the  large  amphitheater  was  packed  to  overflow 
ing. 

A  few  moments  before  the-time  announced  for 
starting  the  horses  Helen  Strong,  the  belle  of 
old  Virginia,  was  escorted  to  the  grand  stand  by 


248  A   HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

her  father,  where  she  could  see  the  whole  per 
formance.  She  was  a  tall,  golden-haired  girl; 
her  large  eyes  were  serious,  with  those  strange 
dark  spots  in  them  which  really  made  them  beau 
tiful.  Ordinarily  she  was  a  trifle  pale,  but  her 
face  had  a  trick  of  lighting  up  with  a  rare  smile 
which  made  her  wonderfully  attractive.  To-day 
her  cheeks  were  flushed  with  excitement  and  her 
lips  had  a  pathetic  curve  of  fear  that  had  never 
rested  on  them  before. 

Allen  Parks  was  the  first  of  the  participants  to 
arrive  and  he  was  followed  by  Starlight,  his 
rider  and  a  suite  of  attendants. 

Then  after  a  few  moments  had  elapsed  people 
naturally  began  to  look  around  for  the  other 
entry.  Where  was  Charley  Sharp?  Where  was 
Mobile?  Neither  had  as  yet  appeared  and  the 
waiting  crowd  grew  impatient.  At  this  instant 
Hunch  walked  out  on  the  track  and  took  his 
place  before  the  judges'  stand.  An  old  grain 
sack  was  thrown  over  his  shoulders;  behind  him 
meekly  followed  Little  Ben. 

Hunch  was  a  familiar  figure  to  almost  every 
one  there,  and  when  he  paused  expectantly  before 


IN   THE   DAYS   OF   SLAVERY  249 

the  judges,  yells  went  up  from  the  near-by  crowd : 
"  Hello,  Hunch !  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
that  plug?"  The  darkey  turned  and  faced  the 
packed  audience,  and  with  a  look  on  his  face  no 
one  had  ever  seen  before,  his  black  eyes  gleam 
ing,  said,  "  I'se  gwine  to  win  de  race."  A 
cyclone  roar  went  up  from  the  crowd  and  some 
one  called  to  him,  "  Better  have  the  thing  weather- 
boarded."  "  Where  did  you  get  that  cow?"  came 
from  another,  while  jeers  and  hoots  were  hurled 
from  all  directions.  But  they  might  as  well  have 
been  thrown  at  a  stone  wall  as  at  Hunch,  who 
turned  again  to  the  judges'  stand,  laid  down  the 
old  sack  he  was  carrying  and  remarked  that  he 
was  ready. 

"Ready  for  what?"  one  of  the  judges  asked. 

"Fo1  de  race." 

"Well,  where  is  your  horse?" 

"  Here's  de  hoss." 

"What,  that  thing  to  run  against  Star 
light?" 

"Dis,  gen'lemen,  is  de  hoss  dats  to  beat  de 
high-tone  plug  wid  de  po'  white  trash  on  his 
back." 


250  A   HORSE-RACE   FOR  A   WIFE 

That  was  the  first  intimation  Allen  Parks  had 
that  Mobile  was  not  to  run  in  the  race,  and  he  at 
once  formally  protested  against  the  entry  of  Little 
Ben,  declaring  that  it  was  an  intentional  insult  to 
him,  and  that,  in  any  event,  Sharp  must  appear 
and  stand  sponsor  for  his  horse.  The  judges 
recognized  the  force  of  the  argument  and  sent  for 
Charley.  When  he  stepped  out  before  them  to 
acknowledge  the  entry  there  was  something  about 
his  pale  face  and  determined  bearing  which  awed 
the  crowd ;  the  hoots  and  catcalls  ceased.  Parks 
had  no  alternative  but  to  accept  the  issue,  yet,  as 
he  turned  to  his  followers  he  said,  in  a  sufficiently 
loud  tone  to  be  overheard  in  the  grand  stand,  "  I 
shall  soon  be  in  a  position  to  make  young  Sharp 
regret  this  insult."  And  she  for  whose  ear  it  was 
intended  shuddered. 

Comparing  the  appearance  of  the  two  horses, 
their  riders  and  equipments,  it  did  seem  very 
much  like  an  intentional  affront  to  Allen  Parks. 
His  horse  was  a  beautiful  light  chestnut  sorrel, 
high-headed  and  a  lofty-looking  fellow.  His 
bridle  and  saddle  were  of  the  latest  improved 
racing  pattern,  and  his  rider  was  dressed  in  all 


IN   THE   DAYS    OF   SLAVERY  251 

the  colors  of  the  rainbow;  taking  it  altogether 
they  made  a  handsome  picture  with  their  score  of 
attendants. 

Little  Ben  had,  as  previously  described,  only  a 
common  bridle  on  his  head  and  an  old  surcingle 
around  his  body,  just  back  of  his  forelegs,  with  a 
handloop  on  each  side  of  the  center  of  his  back. 
Hunch  stood  there  looking  as  he  had  for  many 
months  past  on  the  plantation — barefooted  and 
bareheaded,  with  the  same  old  ragged  pants  with 
the  deep  pockets  that  he  had  worn  many  a  day 
while  training  his  faithful  horse.  No  amount  of 
persuasion  could  induce  him  to  change,  for  he 
said  Little  Ben  knew  him  best  that  way,  and  if 
he  fixed  up  and  put  on  a  new  bridle  and  saddle, 
"he  may  scar'  an'  not  min'  me,  an'  I  wants  to 
win  de  race.  I  doan'  care  what  folks  say,  I  on'y 
wants  to  win  for  Missy  Helen  and  Marse  Char 
ley,  an'  den  Little  Ben  will  plow  no  mo'." 

All  this  time  remarks  could  be  heard  from  the 
crowd  in  the  amphitheater  and  along  the  fence 
that  separated  them  from  the  track,  such  as: 

"That  is  the  kind  of  a  horse  I'd  get  if  I  was 
going  to  run  a  race  for  a  wife,"  speaking  of 


252  A   HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

Starlight.  "Well,  you'd  never  win  her,"  another 
would  reply;  "some  one  is  going  to  be  fooled  on 
that  little  horse,  you  mind  if  they  don't." 

An  old  man,  apparently  a  stranger,  standing 
there  listening  to  the  comments,  but  with  his  eyes 
intently  fixed  on  Little  Ben,  turned  to  a  disputative 
neighbor  and  said: 

"  The  horse  the  darkey  has  is  built  for  running; 
look  at  his  length  and  his  straight  flat  strong  legs ; 
look  at  his  shoulders  and  hips,"  and  then  turning 
his  glasses  upon  the  horse  he  scrutinized  him 
more  closely,  and  moving  about  nervously  said  in 
an  excited  tone,  "  He'll  win!  he'll  win!" 

"The  darkey  don't  look  much  alongside  the 
other  rider,"  said  one,  on  whom  the  gaudy  trap 
pings  had  had  the  desired  effect.  Another 
remarked,  "Never  mind  about  that  nigger,  he'll 
win  the  race."  "  Never !  "  came  from  a  third 
party. 

All  this  time  Hunch,  utterly  oblivious  to 
the  opinion  of  friend  or  foe,  was  holding  a 
conversation  with  Little  Ben.  He  seemed  to  be 
giving  him  instructions  just  as  one  would  do  with 
a  man,  and  the  little  horse  seemed  to  understand 


Horses  and  riders  ready  for  the  race. 


IN   THE    DAYS    OF   SLAVERY  253 

him  too,  and  pulled  at  the  deep  pockets  in  the 
darkey's  pants  and  rubbed  his  nose  on  his 
bare  head,  as  if  to  assure  him  that  his  injunc 
tions  would  be  faithfully  obeyed.  True  to  the 
characteristics  of  the  Southern  women,  Helen  sat 
there  in  plain  view  of  the  great  throng  brave  and 
determined,  yet  her  every  breath  was  a  prayer  for 
the  success  of  her  ragged  protege. 

"All  in  readiness  for  the  first  heat!"  the 
judge  called. 

Starlight's  rider  was  assisted  to  mount,  with 
two  stalwart  men  holding  on  to  the  mettlesome 
horse,  prancing  with  impatience  to  be  away. 

Little  Hunch  saw  this  move  and  crossing  the 
track  sprang  upon  a  bench  which  stood  beside 
the  grand  stand.  Here  he  stood  for  an  instant 
calmly  and  deliberately  surveying  his  opponent's 
actions,  and  then,  placing  his  fingers  to  his  lips, 
uttered  a  shrill  whistle.  Ben  instantly  wheeled 
over  to  the  bench,  allowed  the  negro  to  scramble 
on  his  back,  which  he  did  with  the  agility  of  a 
monkey,  and  then  made  for  the  starting  line, 
where  he  stopped.  This  clever  maneuver  created 
some  concern  in  the  mind  of  Allen  Parks  and  he 


254  A   HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

cautioned  his  rider  not  to  be  caught  napping  by 
the  darkey,  as  the  horse  was  a  total  stranger  and 
might  give  him  more  trouble  than  he  anticipated. 
The  darkey's  coolness  brought  forth  cheers  from 
the  crowd  which  somewhat  comforted  Helen. 

"First  heat!"  shouted  the  judge,  "Ready — 
one,  two,  three!"  The  pistol  cracked  and  the 
horses  were  off. 

"Away  they  go,  Starlight  in  the  lead!"  Helen 
exclaimed,  as  she  leaned  breathlessly  forward  over 
the  rail  with  her  glasses  to  her  eyes.  "All  is 
lost!"  she  cried,  "Little  Ben  is  no  match  for  the 
sorrel,"  and  unable  to  endure  the  sight  she  turned 
her  head  away. 

A  great  hush  fell  on  the  crowd.  Eager 
and  expectant,  every  eye  followed  the  flying 
animals.  Suddenly  a  shout  rent  the  air — it  grew 
into  a  roar.  "The  little  horse  is  gaining.  See! 
See!  He  is  a  beautiful  runner!"  Helen  threw 
her  glasses  upon  the  horses  again  just  as  they 
passed  the  half-mile  post,  in  time  to  see  Little 
Ben  leap  forward  and  come  up  neck  and  neck, 
while  Starlight's  rider  plied  his  whip  vigor 
ously. 


IN    THE   DAYS   OF   SLAVERY  255 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  "see  the  dear  little  horse 
dash  forward  at  the  last  quarter;  Starlight  is 
crowding  him  to  the  fence.  Why  don't  Hunch 
use  the  whip?  Two  hundred  yards,  nose  and 
nose!  He  can't  win!  He  can't  win!  A  hundred 
yards — Oh!"  she  exclaimed.  Then  those  who 
were  within  ear-shot  of  the  horses  thundering 
down  the  home-stretch  heard  Hunch  call  aloud 
just  once,  "Little  Ben!"  and  the  gallant  little  horse 
responded  with  a  spurt  which  sent  him  under  the 
wire  half  a  neck  ahead  of  Starlight,  while  the 
pent-up  feelings  of  the  multitude  burst  forth  in 
mighty  and  prolonged  cheering  for  the  little  horse 
and  his  coal-black  rider. 

The  strange  old  planter  who  had  predicted 
Ben's  victory  was  wild  with  excitement  and 
enthusiasm.  Regardless  of  rules  he  sprang  over 
the  fence  and  went  to  the  grand  stand,  looked 
the  horse  over  very  carefully,  and  held  a  few 
minutes'  conversation  with  the  little  darkey. 

The  crowd  cheered  Helen,  and  she  bowed  a 
sweet  acknowledgment  of  the  honor. 

Parks  was  simply  dumbfounded.  He  had  noth 
ing  more  to  say  about  the  insult  offered  him  by 


256  A    HORSE-RACE    FOR   A    WIFE 

putting  such  a  looking  plug  in  the  race,  but  going 
to  the  judges  told  them  his  horse  had  not  let  his 
speed  out,  but  would  in  the  next  heat.  Miss 
Helen  heard  this  and  so  did  Hunch;  and  they 
also  heard  Starlight's  rider  instructed  to  win  the 
next  race  or  kill  the  horse. 

Hunch  said  in  an  undertone,  "  Better  kill  de 
plug  now,  fo'  he  neber  win  de  race." 

Then  the  sable  jockey  retired  to  the  friendly 
bench,  while  his  steed,  closely  following  him, 
began  to  nose  in  his  pockets  for  his  customary 
reward. 

There  were  no  spurs,  whips  or  attendants  for 
Little  Ben,  for  the  jealous  little  darkey  would  not 
allow  anyone  to  touch  him. 

Allen  Parks'  arrogance  in  front  of  the  grand 
stand  added  still  more  to  Helen's  disgust  of  him, 
and  she  realized  more  than  ever  before  that  the 
day  was  a  turning-point  in  her  life. 

Charley  stayed  out  of  sight,  as  Helen  had 
requested,  but  every  little  while  he  would  send 
her  missives  of  encouragement,  which  she  read 
with  apparent  delight.  He  told  her  she  was  as 
brave  as  she  was  good,  and  the  sympathy  of  the 


IN  THE   DAYS   OF  SLAVERY  257 

multitude  was  with  her;  that  the  little  horse  was 
a  wonder,  and  he  was  sure  he  would  win. 

"Second  heat!"  the  judges  called.  The  con 
testants  toed  the  mark.  "One,  two,  three!"  the 
pistol  cracked,  and  the  horses  are  off  again.  Star 
light  leads  from  the  start ;  as  they  go,  Little  Ben 
is  a  length  behind.  Now  they  reach  the  half-mile 
stake,  Ben's  nose  to  the  girt ;  now  they  swing  on 
the  home-stretch,  but  Hunch  was  either  purposely 
holding  him  back  or  was  unable  to  get  the  speed 
he  had  obtained  in  the  first  heat. 

"Little  Ben  will  lose!  he  will  lose!"  Helen 
exclaimed  in  dismay.  And  so  he  did,  for  the 
horses  passed  under  the  wire  with  Little  Ben  one 
length  behind.  Hunch  sprang  from  his  back  and 
fished  out  of  the  old  sack,  with  his  black,  monkey- 
like  hands,  a  piece  of  plow-chain  about  two  feet 
long ;  this  he  held  up  before  the  horse  and  rattled 
it  sharply.  Little  Ben  went  lame  in  an  instant. 

Then  the  unsympathetic  crowd,  forgetful  of  the 
triumph  of  the  first  heat,  yelled,  "  The  plug  is 
gone  in ;  now  he's  done  for,  the  race  is  too  long 
for  him,"  accompanying  their  remarks  with  howls 
of  derision,  hoots  and  jeers. 


258  A   HORSE-RACE   FOR   A  WIFE 

Some  one  asked  Hunch  what  he  was  going  to 
do  with  that  chain.  "  Oh !  I'se  gwine  to  hang 
myself  if  I  doan'  win  de  nex'  race." 

Poor  Helen  cried  bitterly,  and  little  Hunch  ran 
to  the  grand  stand  and  making  his  way  to 
where  she  sat,  with  his  eyes  luminous  with 
seriousness  and  his  hands  clasped,  thus  pleaded 
with  her: 

"  Doan'  cry,  Missy  Helen,  doan'  cry;  Little  Ben 
will  win  de  race,  'fo  Gord !  Missy  Helen,  Little 
Ben  will  win." 

Helen  said,  "  Oh,  no,  he  can't,  Hunch,  he's 
lame." 

Hunch  approached  closer  and  said  in  an  under 
tone,  "  No,  Missy  Helen,  he  no  lame,  he  only 
mek  b'lieve." 

"  Well  then,  why  did  he  not  win  this  heat  ?"  "I 
didn't  tell  Little  Ben  to  hur'y  up,  if  I  tells  'im  to 
hur'y  up  he  hur'y  up,  shuh  he  will.  Doan'  cry? 
Missy  Helen,  he'll  win  o'  dis  nigger  '11  neber 
come  in  alibe." 

The  old  man  who  had  taken  so  much  interest 
in  the  horse  now  appeared,  and  taking  Hunch 
aside,  held  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  him. 


IN  THE   DAYS  OF  SLAVERY  259 

Hunch  was  heard  to  say,  "  He  doan'  get  started 
under  a  mile."  The  kind-hearted  planter  went 
back  to  where  Helen  sat  and  said  to  her,  "About 
four  years  ago  I  sold  off  all  the  stock  on  my  old 
Kentucky  plantation,  and  among  the  horses  was 
a  little  runty,  two-year-old  colt  that  brought  only 
twelve  dollars.  His  sire  was  a  full-blooded 
Arabian  racer  and  his  mother  a  Morgan;  she  was 
killed  by  a  falling  tree  when  the  colt  was  about 
two  weeks  old.  That  little  colt  had  a  hard  time 
all  through  his  life,  but  he  seems  to  have  survived 
it,  for  that  horse  now  on  the  track  is  he,"  point 
ing  to  Little  Ben.  "I'll  wager  a  thousand  dollars 
he  wins  in  the  next  heat." 

The  smile  which  broke  over  Helen's  tear- 
stained  face  amply  repaid  the  old  gentleman's 
kindly  efforts,  while  the  little  darkey  who  had 
heard  the  conversation  made  faces  at  the  crowd 
and  gave  a  few  steps  of  a  cake-walk  that  brought 
forth  rapturous  applause. 

Just  as  they  toed  the  mark  for  the  third  and 
last  heat,  Allen  Parks  stepped  up  to  Starlight's 
rider  and  said,  in  his  usual  domineering  manner, 
"Mind  you,  you  must  win  this  heat  in  any 


260  A   HORSE-RACE   FOR   A   WIFE 

manner  or  at  any  cost."  He  was  beside  himself 
with  rage  at  the  unexpected  speed  and  staying 
qualities  of  Little  Ben,  and  sorely  puzzled  at  his 
sudden  lameness  and  its  equally  quick  cure. 

"Third  heat!"  the  judges  roared.  The  horses 
toed  the  mark.  "One,  two,  three!"  the  pistol 
cracked,  and  they  were  off  again.  Neck  and 
neck  they  pressed  onward,  while  up  rose  a  cloud 
of  old  Virginia  dust  that  almost  hid  them  from 
the  sight  of  the  anxious  onlookers.  Helen 
leaned  forward  over  the  rail,  her  fingers  convul 
sively  clutching  her  field-glasses,  every  nerve 
strained  to  its  utmost  tension  in  her  efforts  to 
discern  which  was  in  the  lead  and  to  catch  any 
word  the  gentle  breeze  might  float  back  to  her. 
The  two  riders  urged  their  horses  on ;  the  clank 
of  steel-shod  hoofs  beat  out  clear  and  rapid. 
Starlight's  rider  laid  on  the  whip  from  the  start, 
and  was  almost  a  length  ahead  of  Little  Ben  at 
the  first  quarter  stake. 

Then  Hunch  leaned  forward  as  though  he  was 
saying  something  to  Little  Ben,  and  with  a  spurt 
he  came  up  with  his  nose  to  Starlight's  girt. 
"See!  See!  They  are  neck  and  neck!  Little 


:I 


The  finish  of  the  third  heat. 


IN    THE    DAYS    OF    SLAVERY  261 

Ben  is  flying — there,  they  turn  the  three-quarter 
point!  Oh!"  exclaimed  Helen.  The  crowd 
shouted,  "Starlight's  rider  has  hit  Little  Ben  on 
the  head  with  his  whip.  See! " 

The  horses  rear  and  plunge  against  each  other. 
Another  shriek  from  the  crowd.  Starlight's  rider 
pulled  the  frail  bridle  off  Little  Ben  and  threw 
it  to  the  ground.  "See!  See!  Little  Hunch 
has  lost  his  balance!"  shrieked  Helen.  "He  will 
fall!  He  will  fall!  There,"  she  cried,  "he  has 
caught  both  hands  in  the  surcingle  loop  and  is 
lying  flat  on  Little  Ben's  back." 

Helen  turned  her  head  away  with  a  sigh. 
Young  Sharp  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and 
Allen  Parks  walked  to  and  fro  in  a  haughty  man 
ner.  The  multitude  in  the  amphitheater  silently 
settled  back  in  their  seats  chagrined  and  disap 
pointed,  as  their  sympathies  were  with  Helen. 

"  Here  they  come  again  like  mad ! "  was  shouted 
from  thousands  of  throats,  as  they  thundered 
down  the  home-stretch.  Three  hundred  yards — 
two  hundred  yards — now  nose  to  nose.  "Can 
Little  Hunch  hold  out?"  Helen  exclaimed  as  he 
seemed  about  to  fall  from  the  horse's  back.  It 


262  A   HORSE-RACE    FOR   A   WIFE 

was  then  the  gentle  breeze  of  old  Virginia  tossed 
back  to  Helen,  in  Hunch's  pathetic  tone  of  voice, 
"Hur'y  up,  Little  Ben!  hur'yiip!"  At  those  words 
the  little  horse  dashed  forward  like  a  shot  from  a 
gun  and  passed  under  the  wire,  half  a  length  ahead 
of  Starlight,  with  eyes  and  nostrils  dilated  and 
red  as  blood,  and  little  Hunch  fell  to  the  ground 
stunned. 

Little  Ben  turned  and  trotted  back  to  where 
his  rider's  prostrate  form  lay,  and  rubbed  his  lips 
all  over  his  dust-covered  face  and  nosed  in  his 
deep,  ragged  pockets.  And  now  the  crowd 
yelled  itself  hoarse  with  cheers  and  applause  as 
they  saw  a  slim  girl  dart  from  her  seat  in  the 
grand  stand,  run  rapidly  down  the  stairs  and  out 
on  the  track,  where  tender  hands  raised  little 
Hunch  and  cared  for  him.  As  his  faculties  slowly 
returned  the  first  words  he  uttered  were,  "Hur'y 
up,  Little  Ben!  hur'y  up!"  Helen  and  Charley, 
both  of  whom  were  with  him,  told  him  the  result 
of  the  race,  and  he  sank  back  satisfied,  saying, 
"  Oh,  Marse  Charley,  Missy  Helen,  I'se  glad!  I 
don'  tol'  yo'  Little  Ben'd  win  'im.  Fo'  Gord,  he 
would,  shuh."  Then  young  Sharp  and  Helen, 


IN    THE    DAYS   OF   SLAVERY  263 

hand  in  hand,  led  Little  Ben  from  the  track 
amidst  the  wildest  cheers  ever  heard  in  old 
Virginia. 

The  rough,  iron  plow-chains  chafed  Little 
Ben's  sides  no  more ;  instead,  he  drew  a  beautiful 
carriage  for  those  for  whom  he  had  made  the  race 
of  his  life,  and  little  Hunch  looked  after  him  until 
old  age  called  them  both  to  the  great  Hereafter, 
and  they  were  tenderly  laid  away  in  those  grand 
old  Virginia  mountains. 


MTURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

~^j»sMfr^Ltr 

•        -  subject  to  immediate  n 


wA^rfr5**** 
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